Fool for You
by OnceUponAShipper
Summary: Emma Swan has been avoiding her biggest problem for almost two months: Regina Mills. Ever since she inadvertently ruined the Queen's chance at a happy ending, the Savior has been thinking of ways to make it better. But, when she and Regina go out for drinks one night, they end up with more than either of them bargained for. Post 3X22, but minus the Frozen characters SwanQueen
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** - This is the first chapter in a story suggested by "EvilRegalTwinnies." Like i mentioned in the info box, this is after Emma time-traveled in the season three finale, but I am not including the "Frozen" storyline. The only part I have written about is Marian's return. Also, I will do my best to limit the amount of Hood/Hook interactions. If there is a time when I feel that they have to be written in (which you'll see the reason for in the next chapter), I will be sure to add a warning before the chapter.

I don't want to give too much away, but this has been so much fun to write. I currently have the next three chapters written, which means I'm a bit ahead of the game. I hope to upload at least the second in the next few days. This way, I won't be scrambling afterwards. Anyway, hope you've had a nice holiday(s)! And I hope you enjoy this intro!

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><p>Emma strode down the stone walkway, surrounded by freshly-shorn, vibrant green grass and blossoming petunias. The broad-trunked trees loomed over her and provided a cool shade wherever she went; where her hair bounced, the shade shifted to accommodate. It had been weeks since she'd stepped foot anywhere near the mayor's mansion, mostly out of regard for her own survival. In fact, no one had really paid the woman a visit since that night at Granny's. They all quietly observed from beyond the yard, silently concocting their own predictions and assumptions regarding their formerly-fearsome ruler. Henry was the only one who had been seen entering and leaving the premises without any injury or having been cursed. Of course, they wouldn't have expected anything to happen to him; he was safe.<p>

She'd been thinking about doing this for four days. Flipping back and forth in her mind, Emma weighed the most rewarding pros and the most severe cons. The worst case scenario, well... everyone knew how it could end. Not a word had been spoken to Snow White or Prince Charming about her internal predicament, as she was sure they'd try to talk her out of it. They had a past with this woman, they knew what she was capable of. Emma didn't want to be burdened with that knowledge- not any more so than she already had.

So, she trusted her own instinct. With their son in the care of his grandparents, in complete control of her powers, and having snuck a swig of whiskey, Emma took to the streets. In her signature leather jacket and black slacks, her arms swayed at her sides as she clomped down the sidewalk. She tried not to look too conspicuous as she directed her trail for the big house. It wasn't exactly the easiest task, though; the white home could be seen for miles.

What was normally a 10 minute travel felt like an hour when Emma finally arrived at the front gate. She gazed upon the unnecessarily grand abode— the perfectly trimmed window panes, the spotless white-painted shutters, and the luxurious curtains through the glass. One thing was for sure, Queen or no Queen, Regina Mills didn't need all this space. Even if Henry lived there with her, it was too large… too lonely.

Counting the steps she took until she reached front stoop, Emma braced herself and raised a closed fist. Three times she tapped on the wood, and three times her heart somersaulted; she hadn't felt this anxious in months. She couldn't see anything or anyone and she was drowning in a sea of anticipation. Barely a minute passed without an answer and Emma was tempted to turn back; the Savior in her wouldn't let her, though.

After, what felt like, another 28-years passed, the barrier was pulled back, only to reveal an ever-menacing Regina glowering with flames in her eyes. "Just what the hell are you doing on my property?" she demanded gruffly, on hand still on the doorknob.

Her jaw slackened, her shoulders relaxed, Emma was awestruck by the sudden presence. In a navy blue, form fitting dress, black tights and black heels, Regina looked dressed to impress. "I... I-"

"You what?" Madame Mayor snarled violently, her voice a low growl and her nostrils flaring.

Pushing aside her shock, Emma cleared her throat and launched into the speech she'd been reciting in her head. "Um, ok, I know you hate me right now and probably wanna crush my heart, but I'm not here for a fight. I... I just wanted to talk."

"What makes you think I want to hear anything _you_ have to say?" Regina wanted to know. For weeks, she'd been struggling to keep her head above water as her life crumbled around her, all because of Her. Emma had taken the one thing she'd been chasing for nearly three decades— the one thing she'd sacrificed countless lives for: a happy ending. Just the sight of the blonde made her want to launch a fireball at Emma. And yet, something was stopping her. Old Regina would've done it the instant she spotted the golden twists, but new Regina… she just couldn't.

"You don't have to listen, but I just... I just wanted to—" Sighing in annoyance, Emma let the words spill from her like a waterfall. "I'm worried about you, ok? I mean, Henry's worried about you." She figured if she brought him into the conversation, Regina would be more apt to pay attention. "He says you haven't left the house at all, not for work or anything. He'd never say it to your face but he's— he's afraid you're..."

"I'm what? Turning evil again? Well, there's no need to worry," Regina lied. The very thought of Henry being scared of her past was more painful than any other form of torture. She'd voluntarily withstand another day laying on the table with electric shocks bursting through her system if it meant not worrying her son. But then, she wasn't sure she'd be able to cope with another round of "Is She, or Isn't't She?" Anyone who truly know her, would also know the answer. "How can I do that when I never stopped?" she swallowed, her teeth grinding ever-so-slightly.

Emma wasn't sure if she was imagining things or what, but she swore she saw a purple glow in Regina's chestnut eyes. But, she refused to be intimated so easily. She was the Savior, she was just doing her job. "I don't believe that," she challenged. "Look, I'm sorry, Regina. I swear on Neal's grave that I didn't know. I get if you want me to say that I'd take it back, but I can't and I _am_ sorry. You have to believe that."

Shaking her head morosely, Regina released a chuckle through her hallow body. "Hasn't your mother told you? Or have you inherited the idiot gene? I don't accept apologies from people who ruined my life," she sneered.

Her hands in her back pockets, Emma glanced over her shoulder and checked to see if anyone was watching them. There was a fair amount of buzz going around town about what the Savior had done to the Queen, why she'd done it, and if she were truly innocent— as if the residents were actually divided between the sides. "I'm trying to do the right thing here—"

"Am I making it difficult? Does my grief hinder your good conscience? Let me be the first to inform you, 'Princess,'" closing the gap between them until they were nose to nose, Regina spoke slowly and mindfully, "there are some mistakes you can't escape." As angry as she was, there was a part of her that was unwillingly grateful that Emma cared enough to make a house call. Then again, she wanted to wring the woman's neck like a wet dish towel. That "something" she felt before, the one thing stopping her from hurting Emma, was still there, and it wasn't Henry. When they were close enough that she could hear Emma's breathing, Regina let her off easy with a warning. Deep down, she hoped that the sheriff would accept it. "I may not be able to take your heart, but I can still destroy you. Now," she said as she stepped away, "get off my porch."

Obediently, Emma turned and began her descent down the brick road. But then, halfway to the rest of the world, she stopped. Rolling her shoulders backward and straightening her spine, Emma spun back around and marched up to the mayor, who'd been slightly relieved she hadn't done anything reckless. The last thing she needed was another angry mob on her front doorstep. "No," Emma said. "You're not winning that easily."

"Excuse you? How dare you—"

"I'm not going anywhere until we settle this. It's been over a month, Regina. I can't change the past again— neither of us can. Unless you wanna screw up your future, this has gotta stop," Emma asserted, her chin jutted out proudly. She waited for a blow to the face or to be sent flying backwards into a tree, the way their arguments always ended. She'd fully prepared herself for the consequences that may befall her; she wasn't stupid. However, nothing happened. She never felt a closed fist against her cheek and she was never attacked with glowing magic; all she could hear was Regina's quickly-beating heart.

"Just how do purpose we do that?" the brunette asked with heavy sarcasm, as if she couldn't care less.

Amazed that Regina had taken the bait, Emma was a bit frazzled. She'd only planned out so much, she hadn't anticipated that it would be so easy. Well, as easy as it could be. "Drinking always helps me," she joked mildly. "Rabbit Hole. Tonight at seven? We'll probably have a better chance at not killing each other if we're drunk."

Scoffing in amusement, Regina asked, "You really believe I'd want to go anywhere with you?"

Motioning to the empty space around them, and the empty home that Regina occupied, Emma nodded casually. "Where else are you gonna go?"

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><p>Henry watched as his mother hastily threw on a white shirt over her tank top, replacing the blue one she'd had on just moments before. In her dark-wash denim slacks and knee-high boots, she thrust her arms through the sleeves of her red, leather jacket and flipped her hair over the collar. She even checked her reflection in the mirror, something she never did; she always said she didn't care how she looked if all she was going to do was chase bad guys all day. But this wasn't every other day. This was different. Emma actually seemed concerned about her appearance.<p>

"What are you doing?" Henry asked from his spot on the couch. He and Emma had been granted the apartment whilst David and Mary Margaret had one of their rare nights out; Belle was watching Neal.

"Nothing," Emma answered dismissively, though she was applying lipgloss as she said so.

"Where are you going?" Henry pressed.

His curiosity had always been both a blessing and a curse, and right then, Emma found it more of a curse. "Out," she said.

"With who?" her son questioned.

"No one," Emma sighed. She pressed a clean napkin against the wet paint and ran a brush through her loose curls one more time. The light in the loft wasn't the best right by the staircase, but she didn't dwell too long on her split ends. After all, this was Regina she was meeting: no matter what she looked like, Emma was sure the woman would be ready with some snide remark about her outfit, as always. Hell, Emma didn't even know why she was bothering in the first place.

Tossing his video game onto the cushion next to him, Henry got up and planted himself behind Emma. He was almost as tall as she was now; they were nearly eye-level with one another. Ignoring his own reflection, Henry examined Emma carefully. "Are you and Hook going on another date?" he asked disdainfully.

Before she could stop herself, Emma found her cheeks getting hot and turning pink— not out of embarrassment of it being the truth, but because it wasn't at all. This wasn't a school-girl blush, it was a "I have to lie to my kid" blush. "David and Mary Margaret'll be back in an hour, ok?" Emma said, taking a detour down dishonesty lane "I'll be home later tonight." She kissed Henry's forehead, grabbed her cellphone and keys, and left the boy standing dumbstruck. Whatever was going on, Henry didn't have a good feeling about it.

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><p>Regina was 15 minutes late to the Rabbit Hole for two reasons: one, she didn't really want to go, and two, she didn't know what to wear. Her first appearance in public since the evening at Granny's, the last thing she wanted was for people to see her and think, "Poor Regina. She looks so sad." Then again, she doubted anyone would actually care enough to notice. In reality, no matter what suit she chose or which jacket she decided on, the only person she had to worry about proving a point to was Emma Swan. She had to show that infuriating imbecile that she wasn't a ticking-time bomb.<p>

The moment that she stepped foot into the seedy bar, Regina had the urge to flee. But it was too late: Emma had already spotted her. From her perch at the counter, the Savior had been surveying the door every few seconds, afraid that she'd been stood up. When she finally did see the Queen, her slow descent into frustration reversed. "Regina!" she waved.

In her pleated, charcoal pants and matching coat, Regina held her head high and carried herself with as much dignity as she could. There was no going back now. "Ms. Swan," she greeted curtly. "If you insist on staying an inch away from the alcohol, be my guest. However, I'd prefer to sit in a more civilized manner, perhaps at an actual table."

Scooping up her beer, Emma leapt off of the seat and landed gracefully on the floor. "It's your party," she teased. "After you." She watched in amusement as the regal politician strutted to a booth by the window, only after grazing the pad of her index finger across the table's surface and checking for dust. "Can't be too bad," Emma jested. "They just cleaned it last month."

Her back to the insufferable blonde, Regina rolled her eyes and slid onto the ripped cushion. If she truly had to be out somewhere, she would've preferred Granny's; at least they served food other than pretzels. The Rabbit Hole, well, Regina just wished there was a way to rid the town of such a disgusting business. The prospect of people going every night to drown their sorrows in just didn't align with her vision for the town.

"All right, you asked me here and so I'm here. What do you want?" Regina quacked as soon as Emma was across from her. "I hope you're not expecting some sort of girl talk. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not really in the mood for such delight." For added, effect, she crossed her legs with that sass she always possessed, though Emma couldn't see her do so. Regina pursed her lips, the small scar never more prominent.

Playing with the sticker on her bottle, Emma shrugged casually. "I just thought we could, you know, stop fighting for five seconds." At Regina's rigid expression, Emma slid her drink aside and leaned forward; the overhead light illuminated her gentle features: her dimpled chin, her button nose, her soft eyes. She didn't realize it, but Emma was actually intimidating Regina. "It's like I told you before: the only way things are gonna get better, is if we work through it… together."

Folding her arms over her chest, Regina scoffed. "And you think I'd agree to that, do you? How do you envision that happening? A slumber party? A group session with Dr. Hopper? I can think of better ways to waste my money, thank you very much."

Realizing just how foolish her idea had sounded, Emma fell back against the padded support, out from the hanging lamp. She fell back into the shadow of uncertainty, somewhere Regina was all-too familiar with. "You know, for someone who claims to want a happy ending, you seem pretty content to stay miserable," Emma challenged.

"I beg _your_ pardon?"

"You heard me. You're always going around blaming other people for what you don't have, instead of going out and getting it yourself— without killing or cursing anyone," Emma explained. "You want your happy ending? Then make it yourself."

Steam shot from Regina's ears and as she tightened her fists. "I did not come here to be further insulted by you, _Savior_. If this is what you planned for the evening, then might I suggest you stick to your hobby of breaking and entering?" Ready to make her exit, just dramatic as usual, Regina sprinted through the front door and out into the early spring evening. She wrapped her arms around herself as she struggled to steady her quickening pulse, her eyes shut tight as she chastised herself for even agreeing to leave her house.

"Regina, wait!" Spinning around on her three-inch high heels, Regina found herself face to face with the very woman she wanted to avoid at the moment. And yet, as much as she wished she could teleport back home, Regina was unable to move. She was frozen in her spot; a small voice in her head ordered her to let the Savior speak. Emma made a mental note of each and every subtle movement Regina made, the way the brunette put on hand on her waist and shifted her weight to one leg; she always did that when she was annoyed. "I'm sorry," Emma said, having let a few seconds of silence pass by. "I asked you out here to make things better, not worse. I didn't mean to—"

"That's the problem with you and your family, Ms. Swan: you never _mean_ to do anything wrong! But, that's not an excuse! It never was! Your mother's been using it for years, trying to make herself feel better about what she did to me. You want my advice? Take responsibility for once in your life, and stay the hell out of mine." Regina finished her long-over-due speech with a slight huff as the words she'd been holding in for the last six weeks. They'd been building and building, like a stack of legos, waiting for the right moment to be knocked down— to be released. For 58 days, Regina had been drowning in a pool of rage and betrayal. But, now that she'd finally let it out, she didn't feel any less pain than she did before she exploded in the middle of the Rabbit Hole parking lot. It didn't make anything better.

Emma rocked on the balls of her feet and licked her lips before parting them. "Now that that's out there," she started, "what do you say to just one drink? It's on me."

Snapping her head backwards and looking up at the full moon above them, Regina groaned silently. She was mesmerized by the twinkle of the magnificent stars hanging in the sky, the way they shimmered so freely, as if taking turns smiling. "If I say yes, will you stop trying to be my friend and just… just leave me alone?"

"If that's what you want," Emma nodded solemnly. She held her breath as Regina brushed into her shoulders and stomped back to the entrance. Emma opened the door for the woman and with a half-grin, added, "But you know, who knows? Friends might not be such a bad thing."


	2. Chapter 2

Somewhere after Emma's third bottle of beer and Regina's fourth glass of white wine, the kid-gloves came off: Emma order them shots of whiskey. They'd been playing pretty nice for the past several hours, even going so far as to laugh at something the other had said. Regina made an offhanded comment about her dislike for Hook's lack of a wardrobe, among other things, and Emma couldn't help but agree. Meanwhile, the blonde quipped with a reminder that Regina herself seemed to own only four outfits: pissed, not pissed, casual, and formal; to which, the brunette snorted accidentally, much to her chagrin. She hadn't wanted to give Emma the satisfaction.

As the women conversed in a civilized, though highly intoxicated manner, the empty bar was enveloped by the exuberant voice of Janis Joplin's raspy "Me and Bobby McGee." An artist very familiar to Emma, Regina clung to every word as if they were life rafts; she tapped her shoes in-time to the rhythm: "_Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose, nothing don't mean nothing honey if it ain't free, now now…" _

"This woman is a genius," Regina said through slightly slurred speech. She tossed her head back as she chugged another shot. The comforting fire in the back of her throat reminded her she was still standing— she was still alive. "I have absolutely _nothing_ left to lose, do I? No thanks to _you_," she said flicking her wrist in Emma's direction. Without having the chance to stop herself, a squeaky hiccup escaped between glasses of liquid courage; Regina covered her mouth with one hand, though it wasn't enough to mute the sound. "Nothing," she said again. "No boyfriend, no mother, not even title as mayor. You won."

"That's not totally true," Emma challenged, leaning forward just enough for the lamp to serve as a spotlight; it shone on her gentle features and illuminated the kindness she'd always tried to convey, but seemed to be misinterpreted for pity lately. "You've got Henry."

Regina scoffed heartily and fell back against the tattered cushion. "Barely. I see the way he looks at me. You were right: he is afraid I'm going dark again. My own son," she sighed. "Perhaps he's got a right to be frightened."

"Bull," the blonde retorted. "If you were evil again, this whole town would've been destroyed by now."

"What makes you so sure it won't be?" Regina asked with a raised eyebrow. Reaching across the table, she stole Emma's shot and consumed the bronze poison. It'd been years since she'd let loose in such an unattractive manner. She could just hear Cora's chastisement in her back of her mind, that husky reminder that "Queens do not show weakness."

Folding her hands on the wooden table, the sheriff rested her chin on them as a child would and peered up at Regina innocently. She wasn't quite seeing double yet, but Regina was a bit blurry. "Because I know you. Come on, we've been over this before. I know how you think. I've been there."

Glaring at Emma from the safety of the shadow she hid behind, Regina clenched her jaw threateningly. "Is that so? I've got give it to you: I knew you were arrogant, Ms. Swan, but I had no idea you were truly _so_ presumptuous to insinuate you know anything about my life. And don't tell me that damned Book is serving as your source material. We both know that thing has done more harm than I have."

Her ears ringing slightly, Emma blinked at the speed of a turtle crossing a busy intersection. She, unlike so many others in Storybrooke, was unintimidated by the venomous Madame Mayor— or rather, _former_ mayor. If anything, the longer she stayed in town, the more she warmed up to the woman. Regina was like a math class to Emma: she didn't always understand her, but the harder she studied, the better she did on the tests. "After everything we've been through, you're not as mysterious as you want everyone to think. And you're sure as hell not as scary."

Gesturing to the oblivious, and rather tired bartender for more drinks, Regina examined Emma's body language. Aside from her resembling a toddler, the Savior's open and unguarded physicality was a sight rarely seen. At least, Regina hadn't witnessed it in quite some time. The confrontational stance Emma often held had been replaced by an aloof shoulder-slump; her constantly-confused expression was now one of resolution, as if she had no energy left for another altercation. "Enlighten me," Regina began, "please, explain just what you see when you look at me so that you can realize how deranged you really are."

"Uh uh, I'm not playing that game," Emma groaned. "I learned the hard way not to say anything I'll regret— especially when I'm drunk."

"What makes you think you're drunk?" Regina wondered promptly.

"Um, for starters, even I can smell my own breath and it's making me sick. What makes you think you're not?"

"I never said I wasn't."

"No, but your tone did," said Emma. "That one you use when you talk down to someone. You know, when you want to make them apologize for something they didn't even do." She could hear Regina let out an irritate "humph" and tried not to laugh. This was dangerous territory she was stepping into, she had to be careful how she approached the situation. One wrong move, and they could be back to where the very beginning. They hadn't made any major breakthroughs, Emma was aware, but they weren't anywhere near where they'd started. Not a single punch had been thrown all night. "Look, I know you're bummed about Marian and Robin Hood, and I meant what I said before: I _am_ sorry about that—"

"Why do I feel as though there's a 'but' coming?" Regina asked dryly.

Sitting up straight, like the adult that she was, Emma didn't budge. "Because _you_ know _me_. I'm sorry about what happened, but I also meant the other thing: I wouldn't take it back. She was gonna die—"

"Which you clearly should've let happen! If you hadn't brought her back, none of this would be happening," Regina hissed. Her hand twitched at her side; she was itching to throw a fireball at someone or something. "You can repeat your sob story all you like, but I don't care to hear it!"

"You should. You were the one to kill her." Emma's nostrils flared, but Regina couldn't see them. They were both buried beneath the ominous shadows, tucked away, unable to watch each other's reactions. They relied on solely on the sounds they made. Emma noted the growling of the leather underneath Regina as she shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry. I- I didn't mean… I shouldn't have—"

"What? Told me the truth? Worried I can't handle it?" the brunette sneered. There was a moment of heat build-up in her palm, but it quickly cooled off before anything burned.

Her cheeks as hot as coals, they eventually took on the shade of a pomegranate. Emma bowed her head in apology. She twiddled her thumbs on her lap and chewed on her bottom lip nervously; her skin tasted sweet and spicy from the assortment of drinks she'd consumed that evening. She racked her slowly-working brain for something to say, some way to change the topic, before she realized that was the last thing she wanted to do. As Emma stared out at Regina's motionless silhouette, it hit her that she was a hypocrite. She told Regina they had to stop avoiding each other— stop running away from one another. And now, here she was, desperately seeking a way to avoid yet another mistake. But then, she figured it out. "You remember last year, when Pan tied us to that freaky tree?"

Regina nodded to herself. "It fed on regrets."

"Yeah, that one. The creepy branches kept tightening around me and Mary Margaret, but you… you broke through yours. You told Pan you didn't have regrets because—"

"I know what I said," the Queen mumbled.

Half-in and half-out of the overhead light, the dimple in Emma's chin seemed to multiply as she concentrated on her annunciation. "What about now?"

"What about now?" Regina countered.

Sliding one of the empty shot glasses from side-to-side, only to dizzy herself, Emma rephrased her previous inquiry. "Do you still not have any regrets?"

"Ms. Swan, if you know me as well as you claim to, then you'll also know the answer to that." A wave of panic washed over Regina as one knee began to bounce up and down. What if Emma really could read her? What if she was as predictable as Emma made her out to be? How the hell was she supposed to keep her private life… private?

Wrinkling her nose and dissecting the previous few months, Emma combed through everything that had happened and everything that Regina had done. She recounted the various ways in which Regina had worked to redeem herself, the various ways in which she _had_, as well as the setbacks she'd been faced with. Emma couldn't help but recall the stories she'd read about Regina and the horrific incidents her parents had relayed, but she tried not to let them skew her judgement— not any more than the booze already had. Finally, when she'd made a decision, Emma courageously broke the deafening silence. "Nah, you've got light magic now, which means you have a conscience. And if you have a conscience, you gotta have regrets."

"Just what would those regrets be?"

Rattling them off like a grocery list, Emma extended a finger for each item. "Lying to Henry, taking your father's heart, working with Cora to kill Gold, not being able to stop Pan's curse— should I go on?"

Regina pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. "That won't be necessary." Meeting Emma halfway, she emerged from the shadow and let her face be shown. "And what about you, Emma?" using her first name for the first time in weeks, "What do you regret? Oh, wait, don't tell me: giving up your only child?" There was just a hint of remorse beneath her accusation, even in her inebriated state.

Ignoring the twinge in her chest at Regina's flippancy, Emma maintained a warrior's bravery. "Actually, I don't regret that. I never have. Honestly, my biggest regret is that I wasn't there for him when he was younger, even if just as a friend."

"How noble of you," Regina remarked sarcastically.

"Everyday I woke up knowing he was somewhere out there; I guess eventually, I just convinced myself he really was better without me," Emma finished as if Regina hadn't said anything. "Pregnancy was hell, but sometimes… sometimes I wish I could start over, you know? Do the mom-thing that I missed out on. Mary Margaret and David are getting a second chance at it. I look at Henry and I see everything that happened before he came to Boston and… and I'm not there."

Although her buzz was losing its grasp on her, Regina's inhibitions were still below their usual level. She had no qualms or discretion. "Gods, you sound like your mother. Always wanting more. Did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe, someone else would give everything for just a moment of what you have?"

"What are you talking about? What— you're saying you wanna get knocked up? Run back and forth to the bathroom to vomit or because you're bladder's gonna burst? Feel like your back is about to snap any second? The whole time being behind bars? You actually want that?"

Like the diamond in the mines, Regina's anger had been activated again and she losing control over what was left of her conscious being. It was as if someone had slapped her in the back and sent her into a spiral, for which there was no going back. "Ms. Swan, do you know _why_ I adopted a child? Has it ever occurred to you that you had someone, that Henry's father even existed? I had no one in this God-forsaken town. Unlike you, I didn't have the… ability," she didn't know what else to call it, "to grow a human being inside of me. I love my son regardless of how he came to be, but you seem to take every moment for granted. Don't you understand? You and Henry share a bond I know nothing about. I raised him for 10 years by myself: I nursed every cold and cooked every meal. I changed his diapers and kissed his scraped knees. I was the one who soothed him when he had nightmares and held when when he cried until he couldn't breathe. I was— I _am_ his mom. I have been for over a decade. But you- you two shared a heart for nine months! Your blood pumped through his veins and he was alive because you were. If you honestly plan to be a parent from the beginning, to devote the rest of your life to caring for another, then be my guest. But don't ever complain about what you missed out on, because, _Princess_, you have _no_ idea." When she'd finished her spiel, Regina's adrenaline had kicked into overdrive. Her heart was pounding, racing faster than a Derby horse. She was sweating and her chest rose and fell as she struggled to catch her breath. She'd just laid her cards for everyone to see and hear, too revved to stop herself. Although she and Emma were the only ones there, Regina was still mortified at what she'd just done: she revealed her biggest regret.

Emma was dumbstruck. Like a deer caught in the headlights, she had no clue what to do or where to go. It dawned on her just then, sitting opposite the woman who had once wanted nothing more than to get rid of Emma at any cost, that she and Regina had more in common than Henry or magic. And, it was in the seconds after the brunette's impassioned speech that the blonde leapt from her seat unexpectedly. Yanking Regina's arm, she left all the cash she had on her and jogged outside with the Queen on her heels; Regina had that "What-the-hell-is-wrong-with-you" look in her eyes. "I've got an idea," Emma said. "But, I need your help."

Emma woke up in a bed at Granny's next morning with no idea as to how she got there, and a jackhammer plugged into her head. A single beam of sunlight shone through the curtains, but even that was too bright for the sheriff. Her entire body ached as she flopped from her back onto her stomach and stuffed her face in a pillow; the rustle of the sheets sent her cringing and moaning. This was the hangover to end all hangovers, and Emma had had many-a-wild evening in her 31 years.

Laying sprawled across the mattress, her feet poking out from the blanket that only covered her legs. Emma pulled the covers over her face as she curled into a ball and attempted desperately to block out the excess noise. Her hard work was wasted, however, as an angry voice shouted through the building. "Swan!" a furious woman roared through the halls. Heavy footsteps slammed against the stairs as the leader of Storybrooke barreled through the highly-respected, though always-empty establishment. Seconds after the first beckoning, the door to Emma's room blew off its hinges as Her Majesty stormed through and conjured ice-cold water onto the Savior's limp form.

"Christ!" Emma shrieked as she bolted into an upright position, the pounding between her ears louder than her own words. She brushed aside her drenched hair and blinked rapidly at the towering figure who stood at the foot of her bed. "Regina?" she croaked. "What the hell?!"

Make-up-less and with flames for eyes, Regina scowled at the woman. If looks could kill, Emma would've been a corpse. "You _idiot_!"

"What did I do?!" Uncurling on her of her balled fists, Regina launched a clear vial at Emma's head; she missed by an inch. Inside of the bottle, at the very bottom, was a swirling stream of white vapor. It looked like a small tornado with a tail at the end. Around and around it went, making Emma nauseous and causing her to look away. "What's this?" she croaked.

"_That_, Ms. Swan," the mayor replied sharply, not an ounce of congeniality left in her bones, "is another one of your messes. Only now, we're both screwed."

* * *

><p><strong>AN** - Here's the second chapter! Hope you enjoyed it! I can't believe it's already been a year since I published "The Queen's Savior." Personally, I think that's one of the better stories I've written (if I do so say). For some reason, it's one of the fics I'm most proud of. Anyway, This is going to be an interesting ride, that's for sure! I'll be back soon!


	3. Chapter 3

"We did WHAT?!" Emma wailed. She and Regina had traded places: she was now pacing up and down the floor, whilst the other woman sat on the bed, her head in her hands. The excruciating drilling had subsided, though Emma still hadn't regained all of her strength— just enough to accidentally shatter the window with her uncontrollable powers. She stepped over the shards of glass, the pieces crunching under her shoes, and even kicked some of the remnants into the wall. The last thing she was worried about was repairing the breakage.

Since waking up, Regina had wished numerous times for the previous night to have been a dream. It felt more like a nightmare, really, one she couldn't shake not matter how hard she tried. Everywhere she turned, there was a reminder of the godawful decision they'd made— the decision she, herself, had somehow taken part in. Then again, she hadn't been in her right mind at the time. "Ms. Swan, I understand that you may be experiencing a sense of confusion at this moment, but need I remind you that this was _your_ idea?" Regina shot back, her index finger and thumb pinching the bridge of her nose.

Shaking her head fervently, Emma tromped up to the brunette with her chest puffed out the way Charming so often attempted to do when giving an order. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"It means exactly what you think it means!" Regina shot up and met Emma's challenging gaze, her jaw clenched tight and her knees locked into place. "As I recall, _you're_ the one who concocted such an idiotic plan. _You're_ the one who urged me to take you to the mausoleum. And _you're_ the one who found the incantation and potion ingredients."

Letting out the most sarcastic scoff that she could muster, Emma put all of her incredulity into one movement. "_Now_ I know you're lying. I can barely pull off a locator pell. You honestly expect me to believe that I made a potion… for this?!" she waved the crumpled piece of paper that she'd rolled into a ball. She'd read it over and over again, but not matter how many times she went through it, it still didn't make sense. "I don't even know what this is!" she cried.

Snatching the ancient page out of Emma's sweat grasp, it was Regina's turn to wave it like a flag. "Don't tell me you've forgotten how to read as well?"

"I know what is says!" Emma growled. "But, there's no way this is possible. It's not!"

"Then how would you explain this?" Regina questioned as she shook the half-empty bottle before the blonde. She watched as Emma stared intently at the container, trying desperately to form some sort of alternate truth. But alas, the Savior was clueless. When it came to magic, the Queen was always the victor— at least, most of the time. "Enough of this," the brunette snarled. "We're never going to get any answers if we stay here and argue."

Emma took a deep breath, a calming breath and responded as evenly as she could. "Then where exactly _are_ we going to get them?"

In a doubtful tone, Regina replied with, "Where else? That green monster has to know something."

* * *

><p>In an attempt to be as discrete as possible, Emma and Regina teleported to the store, although they were only two doors down. It may have been early in the morning, but there were still citizens wandering up and down the sidewalks. The last thing the sheriff and the mayor needed was people talking about them any more than they had been. Teleporting seemed the safest route.<p>

Because the door hadn't opened, the bell to alert for customers never chimed. Instead, the women tried a different approach. "Rumplestiltskin? I know you're here, you little imp! Show yourself!" Regina roared.

From the back room, the clomping of loafers grew louder and louder as Mr. Gold emerged from his office. His black suit was just as starched as it always was and his green tie balanced the gothic look perfectly. No longer in-need of his cane, the wizard moved a lot faster than he used to. He made it from the doorway to the glass cabinets in the blink of an eye. "You rang," he greeted dryly. "Ah, Ms. Swan," he acknowledged with a suspicious smirk, "how lovely it is to see you both. I must say, it isn't often the Savior and the Queen are in the same room without something catching fire." Emma stood an inch behind Regina, mostly because she was still slightly delirious. She wasn't afraid of the Dark One, not like she used to be. Then again, she'd never been afraid of him exactly, but more like she was wary of his motives. "To what do I owe this immense pleasure?"

Regina stepped forward and slammed the torn paper onto the counter; glowing embers rose from the burned edge where she'd been clutching it. She tossed the vial at the man, who caught it gracefully, and asked, "Is it too late to fix this?"

Raising a curious eyebrow at his protege, Mr. Gold turned the page right-side-up, scanned the words, examined the bottle, and broke out in a smile that gave Regina goosebumps— that wasn't an easy task. He looked from her to Emma, and back again, all the while resisting a sickening cackle. "Well, you two have been busy," he said. His capped teeth glinted under the sunlight from the windows.

"Can it be reversed?" Regina pushed fervently. She could feel the heat of Emma's gaze on the back of her head; she didn't understand why the woman was so far behind her. If anything, they'd have a better chance of intimidating the man if they were closer together, though that was the last thing Regina wanted: to be close to Emma.

Returning the items back to Regina, Mr. Gold feigned an apologetic manner. "I think you two best start thinking of a way to break the news. This is a small town; word spreads faster than dark curses. You, of all people, should know that by now." He tilted his head to the both of them politely, "If you'll excuse me; I have other needs to tend to. Your Majesty, Your Highness." Without another word, the aging sorcerer disappeared back into his office. He left Emma and Regina in the main storeroom in shock, much to his own delight.

"So," Emma began nervously, "I take it that was a 'no.'"

Scoffing at the intolerable sheriff, Regina spun on her heels and pushed past Emma as she marched towards the door. Before she vanished, though, she paused as she gripped the metal handle. "We'll discuss this later," she grumbled. "You will say nothing of this to _anyone, _or so help me, I _will_ end you."

In the end, Emma was the only one standing. Alone and confused, the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming slowly ambled out of Gold's Pawn Shop. Her forehead was as wrinkled as freshly-dried laundry and her shoes scuffed the cement as she dragged her feet across the ground. She passed by Leroy and Blue, both of whom waved at her, but she was too engrossed in her own life to notice. Emma kept replaying the last 24 hours in her mind, hoping desperately to remember just what had happened the previous night. The last thing she could clearly recall, she was ordering shots for herself and Regina. Everything after that was a blur.

As she trudged up the stairs to her parent's apartment, Emma fumbled in her pockets for the keys. She could already hear the laughter from the other side of the door before she'd unlocked. She braced herself for impact, for the all-too-cheery grins and warm-hearted greetings. That was the last thing she needed right now.

Sitting at the table together, like the family she'd always envisioned having, Snow, David, and Henry chatted with one another over breakfast. As soon as Emma walked into the room, though, all eyes were on her.

"Good morning," Snow said, somewhat flustered. With an infant swaddled across her chest, the pixie-haired woman's mouth was slightly ajar. David gave her the "not now" look he often seemed to wear; the former bandit cleared her throat as if swallowing her questions. "Are you hungry? There's pancakes."

Henry jumped up and flew towards the cupboards, already taking out an extra plate. "They're really good. Grandma and I made them together," he said over his shoulder.

"Uh, no. I mean, no thanks. I'm… not actually hungry, just tired. I'm just gonna take a nap," Emma said sheepishly. She watched as Henry's smile faded. "But I'll have some when I wake up," she added hastily.

"You know, if there's one thing I regret, it's not learning how to cook," David chuckled. He stared at the food on his fork, almost as if he were critiquing a piece of art, before devouring it.

Just then, the missing minutes from Emma's memories returned. It was though she'd just been hit in the stomach with a bowling ball, she nearly doubled over as her head flooded with images and confessions. Everything came back to her in a matter of seconds. Everything.

When she opened her eyes, Emma found herself the center of attention again. Her parents and son gawked at her as she returned to reality. Unable control herself, her cheeks burning up, Emma slumped forward like a pouting child and released a single word: "Shit."

* * *

><p>The moment Regina walked away from Emma, she felt a tightening in the pit of her stomach. It was as if someone had lassoed a rope around her torso and gave it a sharp yank. The mere thought of the dumbstruck blonde sent a shiver down the brunette's spine and she couldn't decipher if it was out of frustration or, perhaps, something more. Whatever it was, though, Regina fought the impulse to turn back and barreled down Main Street, her infamous, ferocious scowl on overdrive. She marched past the curious expression of Archie Hopper, as well as the apprehensive glares from Granny and Red. The blaring July sun beat down on her neck viciously, as if searing through her skin and reaching for the secret she carried with her. Not a cloud in the sky, she was too easy to be spotted— especially since she was missing her signature lipstick. Everyone could see the mayor wasn't happy and no one dared approach her in her current state.<p>

Onward Regina strode, until she arrived at her home once again. Slamming the front door behind her, the mighty Queen fell back against the barrier and slid to the ground, crumpling in a heap of despair. Still in the possession of the torn page and fragile container, Regina turned the paper into a pile of ashes. She launched the vial at the wall across from her and flinched slightly as it exploded into bits and pieces. The swirling vapor rose from the remains and dematerialized into nothingness.

Unlike her former-nemesis-turned-ally, Regina had a very clear memory of the night before. She was just as intoxicated as Emma was, and yet to her own dismay, she was all too aware of everything that had happened: what she did, what she said, what they'd drunkenly agreed to. Regina let her head drop against the door and berated herself for ever allowing that wretched Savior in. Of all the careless things she'd done, being nice to Emma Swan— and letting Emma be nice to her— had to be the worst decision she'd ever made. Now look where they'd ended up! She didn't even like the sheriff, let alone ever consider something like this! If only she'd been smarter— if she'd only kept her guard up for just a little longer, none of this would have happened. Regina wasn't sure who she was most angry at: herself, or Emma.

For nearly 10 minutes, Regina remained on the floor, her knees hugged to her chest, and her face buried in her hands. Every time she considered getting up, she realized that she didn't see any reason to. She'd been hiding for 59 days. What was a few more hours?

To her own disappointment, someone else had other plans. Just as she'd managed to get her heart rate to return to its normal pace, there was a knock on the door; it shook her entire body into alertness.

"Go away," Regina grumbled. She never got up to see who was calling, but she didn't particularly care either.

"Regina, it's me. Open up," a firm voice responded.

As soon as she heard who it was, Regina exhaled dramatically and rose to her feet. Without a word, she unlocked the door, opened it, pulled her guest inside, and blocked off the rest of the world. Her hands on her hips, the woman glowered at the hero. "Ms. Swan, when I said we'd discuss it later, I meant 'not today.'"

Dressed in a clean outfit with freshly-washed hair, Emma stood with her legs shoulder-width apart. Her tight jeans and brown boots proved slightly distracting for her host, but she pretended not to notice Regina's wandering gaze. From behind her back, Emma revealed a brown paper bag. "Yeah, well, tough. I dunno about you, but I gotta know for sure. I don't care if he is Henry's grandfather, I still don't trust Gold."

Cocking an eyebrow, Regina seized the mysterious sack and took a peek inside. The moment she saw what it contained, her cheeks turned a shade of red Emma had never seen before. "And just what do you expect me to do with these?" Regina snapped crisply, unable to look Emma in the eye.

"Um, use them?" Emma replied as it if were painfully obvious. "If what you— what _we_ did," she corrected herself as soon as she watched Regina's jaw clench, "actually worked, then there's only one way to find out. I know it usually takes longer to know for sure, but since magic was involved… I'm just not taking any more chances."

Closing the bag, Regina reluctantly stepped aside. "You sit here," she motioned to the living room, "don't touch anything. I'll be back."

Emma nodded obediently and planted herself in front of the fireplace. She was too anxious to sit down. When she'd left the apartment, she just narrowly evaded the many questions from both her mother and her son: Where had she been all night? Where was she going now? Who was she going to see? Won't she at least eat something? Meanwhile, David kept himself occupied and out of the line of fire as he gave Neal a bath. Emma had neither the time nor the patience to deal with the badgering. She all but ran away, albeit somewhat guiltily. As for the items she brought with her to Regina's, well, that was the only instance in which she decided to "risk it" with magic.

As she waited for the Queen to return, Emma walked in circles around the large space. She stopped at each picture of Henry and made mental notes of how happy he looked in all of them. There were plenty of him just by himself, but every now and then, Emma found one of Henry and Regina together: she'd never seen the other woman look so at peace.

Emma was just starting her fifth loop around the room when Regina appeared in the foyer. "Did you do it?" she asked eagerly. Regina tilted her chin just slightly. "And?"

Checking her watch, Regina answered cooly. "Three and half minutes." She descended the two steps into the living area, but kept her distance from Emma. She made sure there was at least five feet between each other. "Are you sure these things are accurate?" she accused.

"Trust me," Emma said, "they work."

"Yes, well, I'm sure you'll understand if I don't have complete faith in your assurance right now."

Scoffing incredulously, the sheriff folded her arms over chest in defense. "I'm sorry, but this isn't my fault. I remember you agreeing to this with a friggin' smile."

Her ears matching the shade of her cheeks, Regina broke her rule and advanced on Emma. "I beg your pardon? It wasn't my idea! _You _came up with the whole thing! I was… unable to argue with you!"

"That's not my fault either," Emma retorted.

Her eyes widening by the second, the mayor moved in even closer. "Actually, _Ms. Swan_, it is, seeing as you were the one who—"

"Who what? Poured wine down your throat? No one made you drink anything! Especially not some freaky, glowing potion!"

"Were you not the one who suggested we get drinks?"

"Drinks! Drinks, Regina!" Emma shouted. "Not drunk! You could've had water for all I cared!"

"You dirty little—" Regina cut herself off instantly. She hadn't realized just how closed she'd gotten to Emma. When they were mere inches away from each other, Regina searched her adversary's emerald spheres; goosebumps rose under her sleeve and spread up her arms. She could smell Emma's shampoo and feel her warmth. She was too close. With her fists balled at her sides, Regina backed away cautiously and flipped her hair calmly. She glanced down at the time-teller on her wrist and swallowed loudly. "Follow me," she ordered.

"Huh?" Emma blurted, still charged from their fight.

"If you really want to know, I suggest you follow me," Regina repeated coldly. Spinning on her heels, she started down the hallway and turned into the guest bathroom at the end of the corridor. She could hear Emma's heavy breathing behind her and the frightened teeth-grinding. Flipping the light switch, Regina began slowly, "Emma, if these prove anything—"

"We'll worry about that when we have to," Emma interjected. No longer angry at the brunette, she couldn't help the ounce of compassion that slipped into her words. As scared as Regina clearly was, Emma was just as afraid. "On the count of three," she said. "One… two… three."

Together, Emma and Regina looked down at the six white sticks on a folded hand-towel, their stomachs dropping to the ground. The women sucked in a breath at exactly the same moment, as if an invisible hand had clamped down on their windpipes. They stared at the pink plus-signs in shock.

With a millions thoughts running through her head, Regina just barely made out a single sentence. "Well, that settles that, doesn't it?" she asked shakily.

Breaking out in a cold sweat, Emma said, "I guess so. You're… you're pregnant."

"I'm pregnant," Regina echoed in disbelief. "With the Savior's child."

* * *

><p><strong>AN** - Hey, readers! Thanks so much for the positive feedback so far. I'm glad to see you all are enjoying it. As I said, I'm a few chapters ahead of what's published, which I hope to keep up. I don't want you all to have to wait so long for the next update. But, until then, thanks again!


	4. Chapter 4

It was as if they'd turned into stone. Emma and Regina hadn't budged an inch in more than five minutes. Side-by-side, they glared at the positive pregnancy tests, their mouths drier than deserts. They blinked once-in-a-while, but for the most part, that was it. Emma wasn't even sure she was still breathing. It was as if their spirits had separated from their bodies and all that was left were hallow forms.

Gradually, Emma and Regina grappled with the truth that they'd just been slapped with. Recognizing that menacing look in Regina's eyes, Emma backed away hastily, making sure to free a path for the hard-faced brunette. And it was a good thing too, or the blonde would've fallen victim to the fireball that Regina hurled into the fireplace; she let out a frustrated grunt and groan and resisted the urge to throw another.

"I don't understand," Emma murmured. "I don't get how this is even possible."

"For once, I would have to agree with you," Regina huffed. For her, it was as if the anger that had been boiling all morning had reached its limit. As soon as the flames died out, so did her resentment. There was a weightlessness to her actions, almost as though she were afraid to make any sudden movements. "It would seem that magic is capable of much more than I'd been taught."

"That's it? Magic? Magic can… it can do this?" Emma asked. As if they were bound by an invisible string, the women moved in such with one another; as Regina sat down on the couch, Emma shuffled to the fireplace and stared down at the charred logs. She kept her back to the older woman as she counted the ashes silently. Neither of them could bring themselves to look at each other. If they were having a contest of who could avoid one another the longest, they'd be tied.

Crossing one leg over the other, doing her best to maintain some semblance of grace during this trying time, Regina sat with her spine straighter than an arrow. She didn't want to bend forward too far, nor did she want to lean backwards. In fact, that was the only thing she was absolutely sure of at the moment: her posture. "It appears so," she said, not an ounce of bitterness left in her.

Reaching for the charm around her neck, Emma pinched it between her thumb and index finger. With a preparatory breath, she forced herself to take the seat across from Regina. Going one step further, she finally made eye-contact. What she saw, she'd never seen in the brunette's brown orbs before. "What do we do now?"

Regina chuckled, though not out of amusement. It was one of those laughs people let out when they were slowly losing all sanity, all hope of keeping track of their life. "That's quite the question." Wringing her hands until her skin turned white, Regina added, "I know thing: neither of us is going to tell anyone."

Wrinkling her nose in bewilderment, Emma shook her head. "Not even Henry?"

"_Especially _not Henry. Gods, can you even imagine what something like this would do to him? No, it's better to keep it to ourselves," Regina said definitely.

"For how long?" Emma wondered. "I know things like this didn't happen in your world, but wherever you are, if you're pregnant, you get bigger. Henry's gonna notice at some point."

"That may be, but 'some point' isn't now, is it Ms. Swan?" Regina raised an eyebrow, as if secretly forcing Emma to agree.

Instead of going along with the woman, Emma sighed heavily and said, "Ok, so, uh, just so we're clear: because I made some weird potion-thing, you're gonna gave my kid? Is that right? Is that what's going on?"

"Well it certainly wasn't _my_ magic that did this," the Queen replied impatiently as she motioned to her stomach. "And I certainly didn't ask for it either."

Squinting slightly, the blonde licked her lips in concentration. "I mean, not exactly, but…"

Her nostrils flaring, Regina went into Mayor-Mode. "But _what_?"

Emma fell back against the cushion of the chair and propped her left ankle on her right knee— a slightly less elegant version of Regina's current pose. "You did kinda said that you were jealous I had Henry— carried him, that is."

Regina rolled her eyes and looked away, as if she didn't have any time for technicalities. "I'm perfectly aware of what I said, thank you very much. Although, I'm quite sure that I never mentioned anything about wanting to have _your_ child."

For a moment, it was almost as though Emma and Regina were strangers again, brought together by some twist of fate. For Emma, sitting across from the brunette closely resembled that of a waiting room: being unsure of whether or not to strike up conversation with the other person, not wanting to overstep, but also deeply curious about who they were. There was so much she wanted to say to Regina, so much she wanted to know. But, based off of the mayor's distant demeanor, Emma decided not to push her luck.

"Do you… do you feel any different?" the Savior asked before she could stop herself. She'd just told decided not to press any further and now? In her defense, Emma never did have the best impulse control— their current problem was proof.

As if she weren't sure how to answer, Regina bat her eyelashes several times and glanced down at her flat abdomen. In an unguarded moment, she countered, "Should I?"

Emma shrugged casually. "I dunno. I didn't notice anything until I was three months in. Then again, it could've been the prison food. Both made me sick." Blushing slightly, she noted the way Regina winced at the mention of her past— a past that was technically Regina's fault. "Sorry," she added. "I didn't mean—"

"I know. You never do, do you?" Regina said, though with complete sincerity. It was as if she were just realizing it right for the first time: Emma's true intentions.

Several seconds of pure silence passed between the women. The sarcasm and nebulous parleying had ceased, only to be replaced by a cringe-worthy sense of unknowing. A wave of doubt and uncertainty washed over Emma and Regina and laid over them like a blanket.

When the silence was too much for her to handle, Emma shot up from her seat as if it were on fire. "Look, um, I think we both need some time to… I'm just gonna go. Don't get up," she said in a rather protective tone as Regina shifted on the couch, "I'll show myself out." She gave Henry's other mother an understanding nod before heading to the door. But, halfway there, she stopped and turned back around. "Regina?"

Rotating several degrees, Regina was drawn to the vulnerability in Emma's voice. "Yes?"

Shoving her hands deep in her pockets, Emma's subconsciously flexed her triceps. Despite the small voice in her head that told her not to, she caught herself gazing straight into Regina's eyes; in that moment, she saw more than fear and annoyance: she saw the last two months of Regina's life. Like a teenager struck by nerves, Emma bit her tongue. "Never mind. We'll, uh… we'll talk, ok?"

"That we will," Regina promised. "Good day, Ms. Swan."

Emma didn't go straight home. She thought about it. She even started in that direction, but she needed some time by herself. She was in no place to handle a second round of 20 questions, not when she was in search of her own answers. No, instead of returning to her parents' apartment, Emma found herself wandering the beach on her own.

* * *

><p>With the hems of her jeans pulled halfway up her legs and her shoes in hand, Emma listened as the tides rolled in and washed up on the shore; the way the waves crashed against the rocks, kissing them briefly, only to retreat so soon afterwards. The sun hung high in the sky, just as it always did at one o'clock in the afternoon. Birds flapped their wings effortlessly and flew across the blue skies, soaring higher than Emma had ever been.<p>

Her boots left long footprints in the sand, creating a trail behind her. She walked up and down the coastline, her tracks mingling with one another. Eventually, she settled down just feet away from the water. She could feel the coolness from the sea each time another wave washed up.

No matter how hard she tried, Emma couldn't distract herself from the last 24 hours. What had happened— what was happen_ing _was impossible. There was no universe in which this made sense to Emma. Not only was the "how" confusing, but the "when" frightened her even more. One night she and Regina we having fun over some drinks, and the next morning they get a baby as a result? Not even Rumplestiltskin could help them.

Emma was stuck. She wasn't sure if she was more frustrated or frightened. She'd made plenty of rash decisions in her life, drunk and sober, but none them compared to this. She never pictured lamenting about the past and casually slipping in one of her regrets could lead to such a life-altering event. There was no doubt about it now: nothing would ever be the same between her and Regina.

* * *

><p>When Emma left, Regina was only semi-lucid. For a fleeting moment, she could have sworn she'd imagined it all— that it had all been a ludicrous ruse put on by Snow White and Prince Charming, perhaps as secret revenge for all the years Regina had harmed them. Maybe Gold had even been in on it— maybe he'd orchestrated the entire thing? But, when the once-evil sorcerer returned to the bathroom, only to stumble upon those six, white sticks, she knew. She knew this wasn't another story in Henry's book— this was real.<p>

In a surge of anger, Regina swept the counter clean of the ridiculous tests, cringing as they all rattled onto the floor. With closed hands, her shoulders began to shudder and an electric shock ran through her body. She felt herself charging up, the way she used to when she was getting ready for a fight. However, instead of directing her rage at another person, Regina took it out on herself— well, an image of herself. Unable to contain her emotions any longer, Regina slammed her fists onto the now-empty countertop: the room shook and the glass in the mirrors cracked and shattered, scattering across the entire room and out into the hallway.

"Dammit Mills!" Regina hissed. "What did you do?" she asked, directing her question to the millions of reflective fractals on the ground.

Three days ago, Regina was just fine, or so she told herself. She wasn't bothering anyone and no one was bothering her. Henry was the only person she could stand to be around, even if he was showing signs of apprehension towards her. She knew she wasn't the perfect mother, but she was doing the best she could. Inside her home, she didn't have to watch Robin roam the streets with his wife and child at his side: his family. She didn't have to watch everyone else enjoy their happy endings. And now, thanks to that constantly-meddling Savior, it seemed to the Queen that it would never be her turn: she may never get her happily ever after.

* * *

><p>When Emma finally summoned the courage to walk through the door to the Charmings' apartment, her son flocked to her side and folded his arms over his chest. He had that look that parents often wore when their child came home late; the kind that made the child question their entire existence, as if Emma hadn't already been doing that.<p>

"Where have you been?" Henry asked with a wrinkled forehead. "You haven't been answering our texts."

Peeking over Henry's shoulder, which was getting harder to do the taller he got, Emma saw Snow and David at the dining room table. Neal was nowhere in sight, which meant he must have been taking a nap; he was out of the line of fire. "I was at the office," Emma said half-heartedly.

"We checked there. It was locked," the boy shot back, hurt that Emma would lie so blatantly. "Try again."

Seeing as how her parents were staying out of it, Emma put on her own mother-persona and sighed heavily. "Look, don't worry about it, Kid, ok? I'm back now, so—"

"That's now what I asked."

"Hey, Henry," Emma said sternly, matching his stance, "I know I've been acting weird the last two days, but I'm still your mom. And you're still my kid. You know I always tell you the important things. But right now, you just gotta trust me. Got it?"

Turning back, as if to confer with his grandparents, Henry looked up at Emma with the same sharp expression. With great hesitation, he replied in a solemn tone. "Fine." Narrowly ducking out of hugging-shot, he stomped out of the room and up the stairs. It was going to be a long night.

Dragging her legs, Emma set herself down in front of the royals and laid her head on the table. "Ok, your turn. Just give it to me straight. Tell me I'm a bad mother," she moaned into the wood.

David, who had been quietly sipping on his coffee up until this point, saw something flash in Snow's eyes; he knew that flash all too well. As his soulmate, whom he loved more than anything in the world, opened her mouth to speak, David set his mug on the table and leapt out of his chair, ignoring the boiling drops that splattered on his shirt. With his attention focused solely on his daughter, he blurted out, "Emma, let's go for a walk."

* * *

><p>Although Emma had just returned from her own walk, she welcomed the company of her father. Since Neal's arrival, she hadn't be able to spend as much quality time with David as she'd hoped— of course, she'd been expecting it, but it still didn't feel right. As much as she loved both of her parents, Emma found a certain kind of solace in David's presence: he rarely pressured her to reveal anything more than what she was comfortable with, unlike someone else they both knew. However, while David never pried too much into Emma's personal life, he wasn't very good at hiding his concern.<p>

Together, the father and daughter drove away from Storybrooke, as far as they could without passing the town line. Once they'd pulled up to a gravel pathway, the Prince and the Savior began their hike up the steep hill. They felt every thigh muscle tighten as they pushed off of the uneven ground, their boots unsuited for such a trek. Kicking up dust and stepping over twigs, Emma and David marched side-by-side, both with their hands in their pockets.

It wasn't until they reached the top of the slope that either of them broke the silence. With sweat dripping down the base of their necks and rolling over their collar bones, David did his best to not sound as winded as he felt; his lungs expanded and contracted furiously as he quietly struggled swallow enough oxygen. "It's quite a view," was all he said as he gazed out over the land. They'd arrived on the property that Zelena had been living on earlier that year. Since her sister's untimely and rather mysterious death, Regina had given the order to destroy the house and the cellar.

Midday in Maine never quite took Emma's breath away the way it did today. Standing with her legs shoulder-width apart, she rested her hands on her hips, her biceps sticky with perspiration. Her heart was pounding, working hard to keep her body operating. She squinted out at the magnificent portrait and inhaled slowly, filling herself with the scent of pine. A small bird with brown wings and an orange chest flew by just meters in front of her; it too was on a solo mission. Emma started to wonder what it was flying to— if it was flying _from_ something. And, was in that moment that the bird turned it's petite head and made eye-contact with the blonde, tilting its beak just slightly. It was if it had read her thoughts and was affirming her hypothesis. But, the winged creature returned its focus to its route and flapped its feathered arms, disappearing just as quickly as it had appeared.

As her pulse began to even out, Emma sat on the ground with her legs stretched out in front of her. David did the same, only he added a couple of extra groans. He was, after all, approximately a century in age.

"Can I ask you something— off the record?" Emma wondered, unable to look at the man beside her. She could hear the thumping of his heart, the way it sped up just like hers did when Henry came to her. It came with the territory.

"Of course," David said without missing a beat.

Emma watched as the clouds rolled by at a snail's pace and a part of her wondered what it must be like to rise so high above the earth that she could touch the vapor. But, without getting too distracted, she forced herself to plow through. "When you… Mary Margaret told you about Neal, what was it like? What was your gut reaction?"

David pursed his lips together, the scar in his chin smoothed out somewhat. It didn't take him too long to remember, as that event was cemented in his brain. "Scared out of my mind. Of course, I was happy, but I think that came later."

"What kind of scared? Like, 'Holy shit?' Or, 'Oh shit?' Because there's a very big difference."

Scratching at his five o'clock shadow, the sandy-haired fellow sighed and said, "A little of both, I guess. But, who wouldn't be afraid of becoming a parent again? Especially when you never really got a chance with the first child?"

Emma kept waiting for David to inquire as to why she was asking such interesting questions, but to her own relief, he never did. Instead, he merely allowed the seconds to pass and Emma to breathe freely; he wasn't the smothering type, she'd come to understand. And, because of that, Emma made a decision. It'd been boiling inside of her for hours and she was sure she'd implode if she didn't let it out. Of all the people that she truly trusted in the village-like town, Prince Charming ranked rather high on the short list.

Swallowing hard, Emma shivered at the slight breeze and turned to face David. The wrinkles that he'd come to acquire over the years seemed more prominent than usual and in an odd way, it made Emma feel more at ease. There was an earnestness to the man, something that others lacked. She could see why Snow had dubbed him "Charming." It was because of his sincerity, however, and his compassion that Emma couldn't bring herself to do it: she couldn't put him in the middle of such a large secret. She made a promise to Regina and right now, keeping it was the only thing that really kept her going.

"We should get back," Emma mused as she set her sights on an overly-puffy cloud. She launched herself onto her feet and offered David a hand, which he graciously accepted. "Dad? Thanks," she added once they were eye-level.

While he wasn't sure how much help he'd been, David wrapped an arm around Emma's shoulders and hugged her tight. "You're probably sick of hearing this, but whatever's going on, just remember: you're one of the good guys, and good guys always make it through."


	5. Chapter 5

Like a tornado, the weekend came and went, ravaging everything in its wake; at least, for two of the townswomen it had. For two long days, Emma and Regina did everything in their power to avoid one another. Regina returned to her usual routine of barricading herself in her home, while Emma worked tirelessly to act as normal as possible; however, her concept of normal had seriously shifted in the preceding two and a half years. Neither of them had made any effort to contact the other; neither one of them had anything else to say. They were both still in the processing phase, still clinging to every shred of stability they had left. While Emma deflected curious gazes and inquisitive questions from both Snow and Henry, Regina was silently grateful to have the time to herself. However, she was also rather jealous that Emma even had people hovering over her, as she was sure Mary Margaret was doing.

Unable to bring herself to throw them out, Regina packed the pregnancy tests into a small, cardboard box that Friday evening. Of course, she removed the end that she'd… used, disinfected the remaining surface area, and placed them in a an extra plastic bag. She couldn't quite figure out why she was keeping them— or rather, she refused to her let herself fall into the trap of facing the truth. Instead, she simply tucked the box away in the hall closet, beneath a pile of linens. Unfortunately for Emma, the jaw-dropping revelation wasn't so easy to hide.

* * *

><p>Saturday and Sunday had been a blur for Regina. She ate, she slept, she strayed lifelessly through the halls. In some ways, it was just a typical weekend for her. In others, it was anything but. When Monday rolled around, there was a brief moment as Regina woke from her slumber that she forgot about everything: Emma, their drunken adventures, the potion, even the baby inside of her. There wasn't anything in particular that would have shaken her memory and deep down, she didn't want it back.<p>

She got up and got dressed, although she had no plans of going anywhere. Still, she showered and did her hair and makeup, just as she always had. Just because she wasn't having company or going to work, didn't mean she still couldn't look presentable. Even in a pair of black jeans an a beige button-down, the Queen was a force to be reckoned with.

For breakfast, she ate half of a grapefruit with a teaspoon of sugar sprinkled on top. Her lower back resting against the hard countertop, she didn't let herself get too comfortable. Comfort was for the weak— or so she'd been taught. Besides, staying still for too long proved to be somewhat of a bore for Regina, unless she was asleep, in which case, stillness was a necessity.

After tossing her bowl and spoon into the kitchen sink, with no intention of cleaning them anytime soon, Regina rinsed the sticky juice from her fingers and dried herself on a dishrag. Aside from her own breathing, the mansion was as silent as ever. Not even the air conditioner made a sound. Not that long ago, Regina would have relished in the dead silence, the opportunity it provided to be alone with her thoughts; now, however, she missed the sound of Henry's footsteps sprinting down the staircase, no matter how many times she'd told him to walk. She longed for a distraction, for something to come and take her away from the dullness that had become her life.

It was then, in the midst of Regina's self-wallowing, that the doorbell rang. Only once did the electronic chime echo through the home. Once was all that was needed. At the tail end of the computerized noise, Regina dragged herself to the green wall and rested her hand on the metal knob. She knew exactly who it was; she was just bracing herself for impact.

"Ms. Swan," she greeted dryly as she opened the door. "I don't recall being on your list of morning rounds."

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Emma cleared her throat and revealed another brown paper bag from behind her back. "I, uh, brought you some things."

A single glance at the satchel and Regina shook her head vehemently. "Please don't tell me you need more proof."

"What? Oh, no, no, no. These aren't— they're not— here," Emma mumbled as she thrusted the sack in Regina's direction. "Just some stuff I picked up… and possibly swiped from my parents' bookshelf."

With one cocked eyebrow, the brunette reluctantly peeked at the contents. What should have been a sigh of relief quickly transformed into an annoyed huff. "Ms. Swan, I'm perfectly capable of obtaining my own literature." As if disgusted by the pregnancy books, Regina turned up her nose and left Emma standing and rejected. She watched as the blonde's shoulders fell an inch and without her permission, her gut wrenched slightly. "All right. If you're going to pout about it." In a graceful, yet sudden movement, Regina swiped the bag out of Emma's possession and held it close to her torso.

Emma rocked on her heels momentarily before finding the courage to speak again. "Ok, look, I know it's not really my place and you probably won't want to go but—"

"If you think that I am going to go _anywhere_ with you ever again, you're even more naive than I gave you credit for," Regina snarked.

Slightly bruised at such a harsh, but understandable, comment, Emma attempted to backtrack. "No, it's nothing like that. It's just… I called Whale this morning and, um, I kinda made an appointment for you. Er, us. Whatever."

Stepping down from the step that separated her home and the general public, Regina was soon at eye-level with Emma. "You did _what_?" she asked, nostrils flaring. She dropped the books onto the brick-stoop below her, never caring that the bag ripped open.

"Yeah, I mean, I didn't tell him anything really. I just said I needed to see him and, uh, wanted to know if he had any openings today. Turns out, some people still don't like him."

Regina uncurled her fist and readied herself for a fireball. She would have conjured one too if she hadn't just remembered the tiny creature growing inside of her. She didn't know what magic would do to the baby and frankly, she didn't want to find out. "Who the hell do you think you are organizing something like this without consulting me?"

"I was going to, but—"

"But what? You thought going behind my back was a better decision?"

"No, it's not like that—"

"Oh no? It isn't it _just_ like you though, Ms. Swan? Running around and puppeteering everyone's lives without their consent, never considering how they'd feel about it or if they even desired your 'assistance?'" With dark, and slightly amused snort, Regina sneered at Emma and added, "You may be everyone else's Savior, but you're certainly not mine."

Regina was closing in on Emma. The huskier her tone got, the further Emma backed up. They were halfway across the walkway when the blonde straightened her back and managed to defend herself. "Yeah, you're right, my mistake for thinking you'd rather not have everyone talking about this before we even get a doctor to make sure we're not both going insane. Because God forbid word gets out before we know for sure that the kid, if there really is one, is ok— hell, even if you're ok!" As though she'd said this all in one breath, Emma gasped for air at the end.

Shrinking back slightly at the last part, Regina shrugged off the apparent concern Emma held for her. "If you harbor such doubt about this, then why on earth would you bring me books written for this very purpose? Doesn't it seem just a bit odd to you that you'd even bother to do such a thing if you weren't already absolutely convinced?"

Unable to create a valid rebuttal, Emma shook it off and tossed her hands in the air. "I dunno! But whatever is going on, don't you at least want to know that you're not, like, dying or something?"

Perturbed at the woman's immature comment, Regina said, "And just what you do you expect will happen when we arrive and tell Whale that you—" Just then, Leroy strolled down the sidewalk, whistling to himself with his usual lumberjack shirt and vest— even the 70-degree heat wasn't enough to deter him from making a fashion statement. His pace gradually increased when he noticed Emma and Regina glaring at him with enough intensity to send him through a portal right there and then.

"Regina, just hear me out? Please?" Emma pleaded. "We agreed not to tell anyone, right? Well, then we won't tell anyone. It's that simple. Whale doesn't have to know about this. All we need is to make sure that nothing is wrong. Ok? That's it. It'll take 10 minutes and then we can leave and wait another two days before speaking again."

With a tired exhale, Regina closed her eyes. To her own disappointment, she was losing the will to fight the Princess. "Emma, I don't—"

"Please?" the Savior begged. "Regina, if this happening- if we're gonna do this, we're gonna do this right. That includes reading the books and going to Whale." Looking down at her shoes, Emma closed out her case in a timid voice, almost as though she were too afraid to say it out loud. "I'm not gonna mess it up this time. I can't."

* * *

><p>They drove together in the yellow Bug, of all modes of transportation. Between the two of them, the mayor and the sheriff had cars that were easily distinguishable. If Emma were to be seen in Regina's Mercedes, people would think she was in trouble. But, if Regina were to be seen in Regina's car, the town wouldn't know what to make of it. In the end, the Volkswagen won.<p>

When they arrived, striding side-by-side through the sliding doors, it seemed as if the air around them grew cold— and it wasn't just from the air conditioner. Every person that they passed paused what they were doing and wore the same puzzled expression. A mass of whispers ensued as fictitious and preposterous hypothesis spread through the grapevine of the hospital. Even Whale couldn't help but suck in a breath at the sight of the enemies-turned-allies.

To their relief, Dr. Whale wanted to know as little as possible about their apparent situation. Emma explained that the appointment was in her name only to shield Regina from embarrassment, to which Regina agreed. As for Emma's presence in the room, neither of the women had anything to offer. And lucky for them, Dr. Whale didn't ask.

Things went a lot smoother than Emma remembered with Henry. For a town that had been frozen in time for 28 years, the technology was relatively up-to-date. She sat in the pink, puffy chair by the door and bounced her knees up and down in an unknown tempo. She gripped the plastic arms with enough ferocity to rip them off, should she have attempted to do so. As Whale prepped Regina for the sonogram, Emma was concentrating on not passing out.

Very little was said during their appointment. Dr. Whale gave his usual assurances, "This won't hurt a bit," "Just try and relax," "It'll only take a moment." They all, however, lacked his usual confidence. Of all the people in Storybrooke, Regina was most likely the one who held the strongest feelings against the man. To say that she loathed him would have been an understatement. Regardless of his short-lived success with Daniel, Regina would never forgive him for betraying her like that— for giving her hope just to have it ripped away from her once again. Although, as she laid on the thin layer of paper that spread from each end of the exam table, her shirt rolled up just passed her bellybutton and her attention glued to the clock on the wall, something snapped her out of her sea of resentment.

Turning the dial to the right until the speakers were vibrating, Dr. Whale held the scanner still and, with a lump in his throat, said, "We have a heartbeat." He sounded as though we were relaying breaking news. If he weren't there hearing it himself, he never would have believed it.

Regina turned her head just enough to get a glimpse of the monitor. Although it was blurry and in black and white, the bean-sized speck in the middle of the screen was impossible to miss. Transfixed by the magic she was witnessing, Regina never noticed Emma rising from her seat and planting herself at Regina's side.

Until then, Regina had refused to let herself believe it was real— that she was actually pregnant. The entire notion was absurd. She'd gone decades without getting into such trouble; all the times she'd been with Graham, all their nights together. Not counting her previous marriage and the evenings King Leopold… not even then. But now, here she was: she was going to have a baby, the Savior's nonetheless. Regina watched as Emma licked her lips and clenched her jaw, the way she always did when she was trying to act tough. But Regina wouldn't surrender herself to the emotions that were clawing at her insides, fighting to free themselves. She couldn't find the joy in being pregnant when the child wasn't even hers.

* * *

><p>Regina was a fixture. With her knees pressed together and her purse on her lap, she sat as still as a statue. The aching in her chest had dulled the further they got from the hospital, but even now in Emma's car, parked in the mayor's driveway, the brunette had yet to recover from such a shock. Now that they knew there really was a baby on the way, Emma and Regina had much to talk about.<p>

When Emma pulled up to the garage door and cut the engine, she peered over at the woman next to her and searched Regina's body language; she knew instantly Regina was in no mood for banter. She didn't know what Regina wanted exactly, but Emma was willing to do anything in that moment. Opening her mouth to speak, she was stopped by a hand in her face.

"So help me Gods, if you apologize one more time, I will personally scour every book and every item in Gold's shop for a way to strip you of your powers," Regina threatened.

When the hand was lowered, Emma wrinkled her nose and fidgeted with her keys. "I was just gonna ask if you were ok," she murmured.

Swallowing the venom she so badly desired to launch in Emma's direction, Regina was the epitome of grace under fire. "Your interest, while unnecessary, is appreciated. I can assure you, I'm just fine."

"You're lying," Emma shot back swiftly. "I may not have control of my magic, but there's one thing that's never changed. Come on, there's no one else around. If you're freaking out, it's totally-"

"I said I'm fine," Regina repeated through gritted teeth. "Now," she began as she gathered her belongings, "if you don't mind, I need to—"

"What? What could possibly be waiting for you inside, hm? A cold and empty house?" The Savior was walking on thin ice and she knew it. She wasn't afraid, though. "Regina, you can't act like nothing's happening. It's only gonna make things worse."

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you secretly obtain a degree in psychology last year? Or are you just- what's the expression- pulling it out of your ass?"

Resting her elbow on the top of the leather-bound steering wheel, Emma sighed heavily. "Look, I get it, ok? This is a lot to take on and it neither of us asked for this, but we can't ignore it. We can hide it, sure. But you heard Whale: we've got until March seventh. I don't think we can keep it a secret 'til then."

Widening her eyes and putting her index finger to her chin, Regina replied with heavy sarcasm, "Here's a novelty suggestion, Ms. Swan: why don't you worry about your own affairs and leave me to mine."

"That's just the thing, Regina: this _is_ my affair. The moment you drank that potion—"

"Correction, dear, the moment _you_ created that potion."

"Whatever— the point is, we're in this now. Whether you like it or not, we're stuck together for the next nine months." Emma was taking a risk, she was well aware, but something inside of her stopped caring a long time ago. She was the only person left in Storybrooke who had overcome her fear of the woman. "Regina, we don't have to decide anything right now. I'm in no rush, but we also don't have forever. When you're ready" Emma held out the second copy of the sonogram, "I'll be here." Regina glowered at the printed paper for several seconds before succumbing to the overwhelming urge and swiping it out of Emma's grip. As she stepped onto the concrete, she was about to close the door behind her when Emma called out, "Oh, and Regina? I wouldn't take too long if I were you. I started to show by the seventh week with Henry."

* * *

><p>With the rest of the town going about their business, as they always did on a Monday afternoon, Emma checked in at the station before excusing herself for lunch. While David doubted his daughter's true motives, he didn't stop her from completing what was obviously an important task. Emma had rushed in, grabbed her badge and gun, and turned right back around. Her greeting and farewell had both been in passing.<p>

Keeping an even pace, the blonde strutted down Main Street. She nodded to the various citizens she'd sworn to protect, as well as the ones who didn't see a badge but a Savior. Being famous in Storybrooke had never been easy; when everyone followed your every move, it made being discrete somewhat difficult.

As if to keep up appearances, Emma stopped in the ice-cream shop briefly. She walked in empty handed and came out with a chocolate milkshake, one she disposed of before arriving at her destination. Now that everything on the medical side of the equation was sound, Emma had to know about the magical side. And there was only one place to go for that.

When she crossed the threshold, the bell above her chimed once again and caused a shiver to trickle down her spine. Dust particles floated around her as the door closed and sent a whoosh of air through the crack. The glass cases looked freshly polished, the floors recently swept, and the bookcases newly mopped. Emma couldn't locate the source of the dirt.

"Gold?" she called out through the shop. "Gold, I know you're here!" Cautiously striding down the aisle, Emma made two fists and closed her eyes. "Rumplestiltskin?" she barked; the name tasted like metal on her tongue.

In a nanosecond, Mr. Gold appeared behind the counter. He looked the same as he had two and half days ago: black pinstriped suit, shiny black shoes, cane-less. The only thing that was different was his tie— this one charcoal. Emma was starting to realize the various reasons why he was called the Dark One. "Ah, welcome back Ms. Swan. Twice in one week, I see? What can I do for you?" Gold said with a disgusting smirk.

"I don't need you to _do_ anything. I just need you to answer me one thing," Emma declared. Meeting him at his own game, she waltzed up to the storeowner and placed her palms flat against the glass. Her curls dangled over the delicate surface, their reflection closely resembling sunlight.

"Are you here to make a deal? Because if so, it's rather rude not to call first." Rumplestiltskin gave Emma a sickening grin.

"If that's what it takes," the blonde replied smoothly.

Sitting on the wooden stool, Gold folded his hands and gestured them towards his customer. "Why don't you tell me what this information is worth to you and I'll give you my price? Sound fair, dearie?"

"With you, nothing is fair," Emma grumbled.

"What was that?"

Clearing her throat, Emma said, "Sure, that sounds fair."

Squinting at the sheriff, Gold nodded. "Well, go on then."

After chewing on the inside of her cheek for exactly seven seconds, Emma bit the bullet and fired away. "You know what's going on between me and Regina." Gold shrugged as if he didn't really care. "Uh, well, Whale took a look at her today and so far, stuff looks normal."

"If you're here for a congratulations then—"

"No, it's not that. Jesus, would you just listen for a sec?" Emma snapped. She was getting frustrated with everyone interrupting her. "You're the Seer right? And the Dark One? I just want to know— I need to know if everything's gonna to be ok. Regina would probably kill me if she found out that I came to you, but there's no one else I can ask and I'm pretty sure this magical-pregnancy-thing hasn't happening before so… I just have to know for sure that- that she'll be ok."

Cocking his head to the side, Gold asked, "'She?'"

Emma felt her cheeks flare up and her heartbeat increase. "Yeah, um, the baby."

"You already know that it will be a girl?" Gold raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah— I mean, no. It's not— what I meant to say was—" Growling to herself, Emma clenched her jaw. "Look, can you answer my question or not?"

Looking down at the floor, Gold responded in a solemn voice. "I'm afraid that this is an event that even I can not foretell."

Scrunching her face in confusion, Emma blinked rapidly. "Wait- what? You didn't even try."

"I apologize, Ms. Swan, but there are some things that out of my reach."

"That doesn't make sense. You knew about me before I was born," Emma grunted.

Landing on his feet, Gold stood up again and rose to his full height, which wasn't that spectacular compared to Emma. "That, dearie, was different. As much as I would like to waste my time and energy bickering with you about this, it is as I have said: my powers are not endless."

Scoffing at the uselessness of the man, Emma combed through her hair nervously and spun in a circle. She stopped when she was staring at the door. "Thanks, Gold. Thanks a lot," she mumbled before making her way down the empty path.

"Emma," the wizard said calmly. He waited until the woman had paused her exit before making his closing remarks. "You seem to forget that I was a parent too; not a very good one, but a parent nonetheless. That fear you're experiencing— no amount of assurance can make it disappear, magic or mortal."

With those parting words, Emma drifted out of Gold's Pawn Shop and only to be rudely awakened by snarling and the sounds of knuckles cracking. As she emerged from the tabooed store, she found herself in the middle of a brawl between the Dwarves and the Merry Men. David was doing his best to retrain Leroy, but the rest of his six brothers were still going at it— even Dopey.

"Emma! I could use some help!" David roared, red-faced and with spit flying from his mouth.

Cursing to herself, the sheriff shouted, "I'm coming!" Doing what she does best, Emma joined her father and managed to grab-a-hold of Little John. For the Savior, life never slowed down, no matter what.

* * *

><p><strong>AN** - Heya! I hope you all enjoyed that chapter. I really love the idea of an update every week and I'm going to try my best, but as you all know, I do what I can. Thanks for the positive reviews so far! It really makes me feel like this is worth-writing :)


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N - **I uploaded this earlier without a proper trigger warning because I didn't think I needed to. But, after hearing some feedback and re-reading it, I can see that one is needed. There is a conversation at the end of this chapter that may trigger some folks. Although it was not my intention, it closely mirrors a conversation around unwanted pregnancy and what that means for someone. And, while I've made clear the reasons for it in the story, I apologize if it triggers someone. If you'd like to skip this chapter, or this particular conversation, then everything after the second break until the last paragraph is safe. Again, I deeply apologize. I will try and be more conscious of what I write in future chapters.

* * *

><p>When Regina was a little girl, her father once told her of a powerful sorceress. A woman with long, blonde hair, she was hailed as an angel by many. Her magic had no limits; it could transcend through all of the realms and return the darkest of hearts to their previous state. Her maroon suit was made of leather and her boots were always tied up to the knees, with a bI elt made of rope. She carried with her a sword crafted of stainless steel, though she rarely had the need for it. The maiden was strong, but she was a pacifist by choice. Unless the situation called for it, violence was never an option for her. According to some, her powers laid solely in her ability to look into someone eyes and know their innermost secrets. She could read anyone, as if their souls were bareHenry Mills had never given this woman a name, as he claimed that no one ever found out her title. Regina listened with her entire being, completely enamored in the story of this person's adventures. Around the age of 12, the details began to fade from her memory. As she matured, she found that she didn't have time with such childish fantasies. She gave up hope of ever crossing paths with this stranger. It wasn't until late adulthood that she finally believe what her father had always known to be true: the sorceress was real. And she was just down the street.<p>

For decades, Regina believed herself to be invincible. With all that she'd survived and all that she'd seen, the brunette could hardly fathom a force mighty enough to knock her down. Even after everything she'd been through in the past few years, Regina's will had never been destroyed. Sure, it had been tested on more than one occasion, but one thing was certain: she always came out alive. That had to mean something.

Depending on who one asked, Regina didn't have a heart. Legend had it that she'd buried it back in the Enchanted Forest during Zelena's curse. No one had any proof either way; it was all hearsay whether she was or was not in possession of such a vital organ. No one, except Snow White of course. She herself had born witness to the Queen wrapping her fingers around her throbbing vessel and thrusting back into her chest. So, contrary to popular belief, Regina did feel things. She felt things in a way no one could ever understand— she wasn't even sure that she understood.

In the days preceding her appointment with Whale, the former mayor contemplated many things: running away, strangling someone, enacting another curse, so on and so forth— anything to avoid the responsibility that had been thrust upon her. She wanted an easy fix to a difficult problem; she wanted a way out. Nothing, though, seemed quite right. All of the options she conceived were either too juvenile or impossible to proceed with without being caught, especially the one about another curse. No, Regina was on her own with this one. A tiny voice in her head planted the seed that she had to assume at least some responsibility, that there was no way to escape— not this time.

For three days, Regina shuffled about the house in her pajamas and robe. Once in a while, she'd pass the picture of the ultrasound she'd left on the coffee table and chew on her bottom lip. She never lingered too long, for it physically pained her to do so. Even just glancing at the image resulted in a pinching in her chest.

Every time that she considered getting dressed, she made it to her closet before shaking her head and burying herself beneath her satin sheets and feather-downed blanket. She shut the windows and closed the blinds, anything and everything to keep the rest of the world separate. She didn't play any music, she didn't look at herself in the mirror; she didn't even talk to Henry on the phone when he called her numerous times. Regina was hurting. She was hurting in a way she'd never hurt before and she had no clue how to make it stop.

* * *

><p>Emma was four years-old the first time she experienced fear. It wasn't the usual afraid-of-the dark fear that children her age were known for. It was the crippling, gut-wrenching, consuming-her-entire-body kind of terror; it was the kind that only adults could put into words. She was in the backseat of a beige sedan, her curly pigtails bounced above her ears. Strapped in a carseat, her legs dangled over the floor as the caseworker tapped on the steering wheel to the beat of "Staying Alive." Emma had just left the doctor's after getting a routine checkup and a flu-shot. For her bravery, she got to pick out two stickers; she chose Barney and the yellow Power Ranger.<p>

It all happened so fast. One second, Emma was kicking her feet in the air, narrowly missing the driver's seat, and the next… the hood of their car had been decimated. Glass broke. Smoke rose from the destruction. Emma couldn't see through the powder from the airbags. She was shaking, crying so hard she threw up on the sidewalk when someone finally pulled her out of the wreckage. As she would later come to learn, the caseworker had accelerated through the yellow light, just as the other had turned green. Emma was the only one to survive the crash, and with just a few scratches.

The older Emma got, the less she remembered the specifics of that day. The one thing she could never forget, however, was the complete and utter horror that swallowed her whole. It was as if an invisible force had tried to steal her from the ground, but failed. Emma never understood why that had happened, why she managed to come out alive and no one else. She sometimes wondered if she was cursed; if the reason she never got adopted was the same reason she was in the car accident, and eventually, wound up in jail.

It was only in 2011 when Emma finally understood. All the years of watching her steps, checking herself, making decisions out of dread instead of because they were the right ones had taken a toll on her. But, having the child she put up for adoption knocking at her door, bringing her to Storybrooke, finding her family again helped Emma realize her purpose; she found a reason for her existence. Being the Savior taught her a lot about security and trust, but being a mother made her see things from the perspective of her child. And, in doing so, Emma was able to let go of her past— of that fear.

When three days passed and Emma heard nothing from Regina, she decided to take matters into her own hands. Or rather, her hand. The last thing she wanted to do was hover too much and come across as a stalker. It wasn't like she'd been keeping tabs on Regina, sitting in her car outside of the mansion. In fact, Emma had been on her best behavior in the last 72 hours. She didn't snap at Snow or Henry when they continued to question her and she went about her business at the station as if nothing was wrong. If anything, Emma was the model daughter-slash-mother-slash-sheriff.

But in the end, her patience ran out. Emma had waited as long as she could without exploding. Instead of getting lunch at Granny's, the blonde left a note on her father's desk with an approximate return time and hit the road. Making sure she had her badge securely fastened to her belt loop, Emma stumbled through the doors and strutted down the sidewalk. She looked both ways before beginning her trek, as she didn't want a repeat of Monday.

As she got closer and closer to the white house, Emma grew just a little taller and her confidence rose just a little higher. She didn't know what she was going to say to the woman when she answered the door— if she answered the door— but she knew exactly what she was going to do. Emma had half of a plan. The rest would work itself out.

Pushing past the overwhelming sense of déjà vu, Emma stomped up the brick walkway with a clenched jaw and wasted no time in ringing the doorbell— not once, not twice, not even three times. Four times she pressed the plastic button until she was mere inches away from an angry Queen with steam coming out of her ears.

Taken aback by the mayor's appearance, Emma almost lost her train of thought. But, before Regina had the chance to make a sarcastic remark, Emma put her hands on her hips with her legs shoulder-width apart. "How would you like the best grilled cheese sandwich you've ever have?" As soon as she said it, Emma decided that it sounded a lot better in her head.

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><p>With one woman sulking in the corner and another flipping two slices of white bread over a hot skillet, Regina and Emma were certainly a sight. Still in her nightclothes, Regina sat at the dining table with her arms folded over her chest like an annoyed teenager. Meanwhile, Emma was busy not setting the rest of the house on fire. Cooking with only one functioning arm was no easy feat.<p>

"Golden or brown?" Emma piped, speaking for the first time since stepping foot inside the home.

"I beg your pardon?" Regina quipped, as though she'd just been insulted.

"The sandwich. Do you want it golden or brown?"

Waving a hand dismissively, Regina shook her head. "I don't much care." She tried to sound as apathetic as possible, but the reality was that she was starving. The very scent of the cooked cheese and buttery toast made her stomach growl so ferociously, she thought it was going to absorb itself. She just hoped Emma hadn't heard it. Turning off the stove, the blonde carefully lifted the finished product onto a glass plate and brought it with her to the table. Making a second trip for a cup of cider she found in the fridge, she set both items in front of Regina and took the seat across from her. "You don't expect me to eat alone, do you?"

Raising an eyebrow at the difficult brunette, Emma responded with a dry, "Just try it and drop the attitude." Before she could retaliate with a sufficient comeback, Regina's stomach whined again and without realizing it, she had already eaten half of the sandwich. And oh god, was it delicious. The bread was crunchy but not burned, the cheese melted but not in a liquid state. It was greasy, but it didn't ooze butter. "Well?" Emma prompted. "What do you think?"

Dabbing her mouth with a napkin, Regina politely sipped at the juice. "It's not terrible."

"Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment," Emma chuckled.

Pacing herself and not devouring the rest so easily, Regina nodded to Emma's left arm dryly. "So, what you have you done now? Don't tell me that deathtrap of yours finally gave out while you were on the road."

Flinching slightly, Emma managed to keep composed. "You want the short version?" Regina shrugged. "There was a fight the other day. Leroy and his guys and some of the Merry Men got into it. Dad had Leroy, but someone hold to hold back Little John, so…" Holding her injury up as proof, she added, "Just a little a souvenir."

"I see. Tell me, Emma: does trouble find you, or do you find it?"

Leaning back in the hard chair, the blonde answered honestly. "A little of both, I guess." Emma watched as Regina finished off the last bite; she half-expected the woman to lick the plate afterwards. But, when the show never started, she stood up and reached for the empty dish. "You want another? It would only take a sec."

Regina pinched the cloth napkin with her fingers, cleaning them of the remnants. "I shouldn't."

"That's not really what I asked," Emma pointed out gently.

Still feeling somewhat empty, Regina blushed and sighed. "I supposed one more couldn't hurt."

Smiling wider than she had in days, Emma gave a mini-salute and found herself back in front of the oven, smearing butter on two more slices of bread. "Henry's been asking about you."

Suddenly going stiff, Regina proceeded with caution. "Has he?"

"Yeah. He wants to know when he can see you again. Says you haven't been picking up his calls." Glancing over her shoulder to show how serious she was, Emma said, "He's worried about you, Regina. He misses you." The demon of guilt Regina had been carrying with her multiplied three-fold. Not knowing what to say, she swiped her glass and guzzled down the rest of the cider. She wasn't normally one to find comfort in food, but then again, current circumstances were a bit different. "Look," Emma began as she listened to the sizzling of the pan, "whatever's goes on between you and Henry is your business. I'm the last person to give advice on parenting."

Regina fidgeted with the corner of the dirty rag. "Something tells me there's going to be a 'but.'"

"But," Emma continued, "you could at least talk to him on the phone. Even if you don't feel up to seeing him, he just needs to hear your voice. All any kid ever wants is to know that their parents are there; trust me on this." The room went quiet just then, as if it too needed to process what Emma had just said. Regina wanted to ignore the last comment, but she was unable to forget it.

When the second sandwich was ready, Emma placed it on the same plate, refilled the same glass, gave them both to the same person, and sat in the same chair. In an odd way, something about this felt so… normal. And for a moment, a part of Emma wished she could do this all of the time.

No longer self-conscious about eating by herself, Regina unashamedly put away every single crumb. The last thing she'd had was a bowl of fruit, which hadn't tasted anywhere near as delectable as what the Savior had whipped up. "Ok, let's get right to it, shall we?" Regina said when she was clean and full. "You're here to discuss our… problem, correct? You think we should have some sort of game plan, some agreement put into place?" she asked as if she could read Emma's mind.

"Well, yeah," Emma said. "Don't you?"

Pushing all of the unnecessary items out of her reach, the brunette motioned openly to the table. "Not particularly, no."

"What?"

"It's really quite simple: this child belongs to you; I just happen to be the host. I don't see what we need to plan."

Staring at Regina as if she were possessed by an alien, Emma shook her head. "What are you talking about?"

Regina rolled her eyes and scoffed as though it were the most obvious thing on earth and Emma were an imbecile. "Your magic is what did this, Emma. I may have lead you to it, but this is," she looked down at at her flat stomach, "is your responsibility. When the child is born, you will be the one to care for it."

Uncomfortable with how indifferent Regina sounded, Emma shifted in her seat. She hadn't been prepared for how passive the Queen was currently being. To be honest, Emma wasn't sure if she liked it. "So, whatt're you saying? You're just, like, along for the ride?"

"No, no. That would imply that I'm having fun and that I had a choice in the matter—"

"Don't pull that with me. We both had a choice, Regina," Emma muttered.

Instead of raising her voice or slamming her hands on the table, Regina was able to continue like any mature, non-magical adult. "We're getting beside the point."

"And just what is your point exactly? Because I have no idea what the hell you're getting at."

"My point, Emma, is that this is strictly business. We both wanted something we shouldn't have asked for and now we have to deal with the consequences."

Incredulous, Emma leapt onto her feet and circled around the kitchen island. "Are you calling this kid a consequence? Did you— did you really just do that?"

"Is it not true?" Regina inquired innocently. "Is it not the result of a poorly-thought out night?"

Pulling her long hair into a ponytail that she couldn't tie, Emma let it fall over her shoulders. "I can't believe you actually said that."

Still at the table, Regina was genuinely confused. She wasn't aware that she was being confrontational. "I'm sorry, but what part of it offends you?"

"What part— all of it! Didn't you hear anything I told you on Monday? I don't care how this happened; it happened. There's nothing we can do to change it. Hell, I even think it's cool! But you— how can you sit there and act so… distant?"

Crossing one leg over the other, the Queen let out a dark chuckle. "Have you met me? When have I ever given you the impression that I would share your sentiments?"

"So lemme get this straight: you just spent the last three days cooped up in this creepy ass house, just to tell me that you don't really care?" Emma was furious. She could tell that Regina was lying, but she was doing a scarily good job at hiding it. No matter what she did, Emma wasn't going to get the answers she wanted— not now, at least. Pressing her palm against the cold counter top, her bum arm hung at her side uselessly. Although she didn't feel any pain, there was a tingling in her fingers. Her entire system was pumping with adrenaline. "Fine," she finally grunted. "If that's how you want to look at things— if that's gonna make this easier for you, then do what you need to do. But don't ever call this baby a 'consequence' or a 'result.' You might not want it, but I sure as hell do."

Somewhat shocked at the Savior's fervor and passion, Regina was flustered. She didn't know what else to say. She never actually took the time to consider that Emma was taking responsibility because she _wanted_ to and not out of a sense of obligation. Regina just assumed the blonde was acting as a Savior, and not as a parent.

"Fine," Regina echoed scowling at Emma so hard her eyes actually hurt. "Is that it?"

"For now," Emma huffed.

"Good. Then there's nothing else we need to talk about, is there?"

Glowering at the stubborn woman, Emma raised a white flag. "I guess not."

Without getting up, Regina said, "You can see yourself out."

Shaking her head in disbelief, Emma didn't bother with formalities or manners. She walked right past Regina and marched out of the house, slamming the door in the process. Yet another fight to add to their long, long list.

As she sat at the table, alone once again, Regina was screaming on the inside. She felt as though she were sinking in a puddle of quick sand, losing control of her own life yet again. Tears came spilling down her cheeks as she swallowed hard, fighting to hold it all in. Contrary to what Emma said, Regina _did_ want this baby. She wanted it so much, she'd do absolutely anything to keep it healthy and safe. Regina wanted to meet it, to hold it, to love it. She just didn't know how to do that— how to let herself do that— when, in nine months, she'd have to do exactly the same thing Emma had and give up the being that had grown inside of her to someone else.

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><p><strong>AN** - Heya! If you follow me on Twitter or Tumblr, you'll have seen that I had this chapter written out, but I wasn't totally happy with it. I am WAY prouder of this update! I meant to upload this earlier, but the site wasn't working. Also, I know I've added some stuff that isn't canon, but that's what fanfiction's all about, right? I hope you all enjoyed it. I'll be back soon with another chapter! Thanks for the kind reviews!


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N** - I'm sorry it's been a couple of weeks. Between midterms and a ton of homework, I haven't had that much time to write. This chapter is predominately fluff/dialogue, mostly because I felt like it was about time for a good old fashioned talk. The next update may or may not have some action... you'll have to wait and see! Enjoy!

Also, that new promo with SQ made my day yesterday, haha. Literal SQ fanfiction come to life (almost).

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><p>Emma sat with her toes buried beneath the sand, her knees hugged to her chest, and her head held as high as she could muster. The periodic throbbing in her arm had subsided considerably, and now the cast was only a nuisance. Then again, the painkillers the doctor had given her could've had something to do with that. She'd always been one to jump the gun.<p>

She'd been there for nearly two hours, sitting and thinking, thinking and sitting. Inch by inch, the sun rose over the horizon and Emma bore witness to the magnificent occurrence. It'd been years since she'd watched a sunrise and she'd forgotten how breath-taking the sight was: the orange rays that spread out over the water, the pink glow that lit up the sky, the yellow streams that peeked through the clouds. Although she could've gone for a drink, Emma was drawn to the shore.

The fact that she was alone was both a consolation and a complaint of Emma's. On one hand, it meant that she could relax and not worry about Snow sneaking up on her. But, on the other, Emma wanted someone to talk to, someone who would listen without judgement. She wanted to be able to feel happy about this, even if it didn't make sense. She didn't want the uncertainty that had built up in her chest. Emma just wanted to be.

When the sun reached its peak and Emma could no longer stand the isolation, she called the one person she couldn't get off of her mind. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw that shiny brown hair and those thin layers of eyeliner. No matter what she did, Emma couldn't stop thinking about the way they took charge of every situation— the way they always seemed to know what to do. Emma was lost. She needed someone to help her find her way.

The voice on the other end was confused, to say the least. Confused and rather agitated. As someone who preferred sleeping in late, they were quite snippy with Emma for ringing so early. But then, when they heard the faint traces of desperation and resignation in the Savior's tone, it was clear what they had to do.

As she waited anxiously, Emma stretched her legs out in front of her and let the sounds of nature be her music. Birds sang to one another as they furiously flapped their wings. Trees rustled and their branches shook as a slight breeze blew through. Emma shivered as a wave rolled in and brushed her ankles; the water as cold as ice.

She didn't know how long it had been since she'd hung up. She hadn't really been counting. All that Emma knew was that she heard footsteps kicking up dirt somewhere behind her. They were forceful, somewhat irritated steps; the sound of leather squeaking caused goosebumps to form down her spine. She could smell that familiar scent— she could smell that a mile away; it was sweet and somewhat spicy.

Without turning around, Emma opened her eyes and swallowed slowly. "I was wondering if you were actually gonna come."

Several feet behind the sheriff, the brown-haired individual gazed out at the still ocean and inhaled deeply. There was something about the water that was so calming, so peaceful. "Of all the people in your corner, I don't understand why you'd pick me."

Shrugging, Emma pressed her free palm into the clay, locked her elbow, and rested her casted-arm over her stomach. "Just made sense, I guess." Bracing herself to face her guest, the blonde craned her neck and nodded to the space next to her. "You just gonna stand there or what?"

Several seconds of uncertainty passed between the two before they were within several inches of one another, their shoulders almost within grazing distance of each other. Setting the black lace-ups behind her, Regina sat as prim and as proper as one could on the beach. Wearing gray slacks and a white shirt, she wasn't exactly dressed for the outdoors. Then again, she had just thrown on the first outfit she could find after rolling out of bed.

Regina followed Emma's gaze and tried to see what the Savior was clearly seeing. But all there was was water— still waters. "I take it concrete mausoleums aren't your preference," she mused, completely sincere.

Shrugging, Emma snorted, "You got me. Now you know my deepest, darkest secret."

"Oh really?" Regina cocked an eyebrow. "In that case, I must admit, I'm a bit disappointed."

"Lemme guess: you were thinking more along the lines of arson, right? Emma Swan, pyrotechnic?"

Regina let a moment of pure playfulness escape and shrugged, matching the expression Emma had just given her. "You got me."

Sheriff Swan nodded slowly as if she believed the mayor, almost as though she were taking her seriously. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Regina recoiled from the incoming waves and brought her knees to her chest. "It's not gonna bite you, you know. It's unarmed."

And just like that, Regina's comfort was imprisoned once more; the innocence and understanding she wanted to covey had been blocked. The very moment she felt threatened, Regina retreated— always. "Now that I'm here, would you kindly explain just why you dragged me across town for some wet dirt?"

"No one made you come," Emma pointed out blandly. "You could've said no—"

"If I'd said no, you would have put up a fight." Brushing the sand off of her pants, Regina glared at Emma. "Like it or not, I know you just as well as you think you know me. Fighting… it's what we do, isn't it?" Emma pulled her long, golden curls behind her head and let them drop against her back. The tips of her hair just barely brushed the base of her spine and they swayed back and forth as she breathed in and out. Regina sat in a way that she was distracted by the dangling mane, though she tried to ignore it.

"Yeah, it's what we do," Emma said with heavy resignation. "But it doesn't have to be." Turning just in time to watch Regina roll her eyes, Emma repositioned herself so that she was square-on with the brunette. "Come on, don't be like that. What I was saying last week— I meant it. I think— there's no reason we can't be friends, Regina; stop all the fighting, let go of the past, be the parents Henry needs."

Shaking her head, Regina scoffed incredulously. "You really are blinded by optimism, aren't you? Snow's been getting to you, I can tell. Always talking about 'putting our differences aside,' 'owning up to our mistakes,' and 'living in harmony.' Quite frankly, I find it disgusting."

"Yeah? Well it looked like it was working for you two. You guys seemed pretty chummy last spring," Emma muttered.

Flaring her nostrils like an angered wolf, Regina made the ocean her focal point and refused to make eye-contact with Emma. "I never thought I'd be saying this to an adult, but there are some things about life that you just don't know about— some things you don't need to find out about."

Feigning fear, Emma shook her hands and shuddered. "Oh, so scary. In case you forgot, I'm not Henry. Intimidation doesn't work with me." Instantly regretting what she'd said, the Savior turned away once again. Neither of the women were facing each other. "Did you really mean what you said yesterday? About the kid?" Emma asked over her shoulder, like a pouting child.

Cringing slightly at the reference, Regina folded her arms over her chest, though it looked more like she was hugging herself. She had a feeling this is why Emma had summoned her, but she had to know for sure. For some reason, she couldn't let it got either. "I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific. As I recall, I said a lot of things about our predicament."

"That— right there. You're doing it again. 'Our predicament.'"

"Well, it's hardly a party."

"Why can't it be?" At that, Regina glowered furiously at Emma and opened her mouth to speak, but the blonde beat her to it. "Just hear me out, ok? Please. Then you can yell at me." When Regina pursed her lips, Emma understood that as her having the green light. "I know I keep saying this, but I mean it every time: I get that you didn't ask for this. Neither did I— not really. But it happened. It's happening right now. Just like Henry."

"Are you really trying to compare two completely different situations?" Regina snapped.

"It's not that different? Some guy I met just a few months earlier got me pregnant. He ditched me. I wasn't looking to have a kid at 18. I was in jail for Christ's sake."

Irritated at the story she'd heard several times before, the Queen sighed impatiently. "If you're looking for an apology—"

"Dammit, Regina, just listen to me!" Pulling her legs closer to her, Emma sat with them in a pretzel position and spoke directly to Regina. "I get that you're pissed off. Hell, I get if you wanna kill me. But don't do what I did. Don't act like nothing's happening, because honestly, it just makes things worse."

"Don't pretend to know how I feel. You have no idea—"

Unwilling to forfeit so easily, Emma forged on. "I thought if I put enough distance between myself and— what I thought was— the problem, then I wouldn't feel anything when it was over." Emma gave a half shrug and peered over at the trail that she'd walked through. The grass split and a three-foot-width path stretched from the forest to the shore. Shadows filled the empty space by the entrance to the forest and for a moment, Emma considered bolting. She'd never talked to anyone like this before and her heart was pounding in her head. She was sure she'd explode at any second.

Noting the way Emma fidgeted awkwardly, Regina tried desperately to shelve her snide comments. She wanted so much to poke fun at the woman, to taunt her they way she taunted everyone else. But something inside of Regina wouldn't let it. "You did, didn't you? Feel something, that is."

Feeling the intensity of Regina's gaze, Emma couldn't bring herself to continue with the story. It would only make things worse, in her opinion. "My point is this: you do whatever you have to do to deal with all of this. I'm not gonna force you to be happy about any of it. All I'm saying is that this doesn't have to be as shitty as it seems. Who knows, maybe it can even be kinda cool."

Regina squinted at Emma as if she were examining her, searching for some sort of treasure buried deep inside of her. "What makes you so sure?"

"Because," Emma said as though that were enough. "Because, you've got two things that I didn't have when I had Henry."

Incredibly curiously, Regina proceeded with caution. "And just what would those two things be?"

A lump formed Emma's throat and she was terrified she'd never be able to speak again. When she parted her lips, she felt as if an invisible hand had just clamped down on her windpipe. But as she stared at Regina, the hand seemed to loosen its grip. "For starters, you've got a grown-up version of Henry. Knowing him, he'll do whatever it takes to help you."

Tilting her chin, Regina said, "And the second?"

"The second," Emma began slowly. She debated whether or not to say it. The result could either be really good or really bad; she'd never know unless she tried, right? "The second thing you got… is me. I've been through this before, I know how it goes. I'm not bailing, Regina. I'm right here."

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><p>Emma and Regina parted ways not long after their truce. However, not until they'd finally established some ground rules that they both felt were fair enough. There were six in total. Both Emma and Regina laid out three of them. Of course, they were not officially recognized until both of them could agree on an acceptable way to phrase them.<p>

Rule number one: Regina and Emma would tell Henry together. After the ninth week, but before the second trimester. Neither one of them wanted to break the news too early and both of them wanted the extra time to devise a plan. This wasn't a movie. They couldn't just call him into the living room and say, "Surprise! You're going to be a big brother!" This had to be strategically mapped out.

Rule number two: Emma would be at every doctor's appointment and every check-up. Even if Regina only needed a blood test, Emma was going to go along. She wanted to follow everything as it happened; she wanted to be as involved as possible. She never paid any attention when she was pregnant with Henry, except for when it came what she should and shouldn't eat— though it wasn't a huge concern in jail. She didn't want to miss anything this time. And, with Regina's permission, she wasn't going to.

Rule number three: Snow and Charming were to find out _after_ Henry. And Emma would have to do it. Regina refused to be the one to tell the Charming's that their next grandchild was growing inside of her. And she absolutely, _absolutely_ did not want to explain it to them just how it happened. If anything, that was the last conversation she wanted to have with Snow White and Prince Charming, of all people. It had been Emma's idea, therefore, it was her responsibility to tell her parents. However, at Emma's insistence, Regina still had to be in the room.

Rule number four: Emma was not allowed to make stupid decisions. Regina made her swear on Neal's grave that she wouldn't willingly put herself in any danger. As Regina had put it, "This is your child. I expect you to be here to take care of it." It sounded like the best way to say it without letting her own concern for Emma's well-being show. She assured Emma that she could still be the sheriff, and she acknowledged that being the Savior wasn't a choice, but no more tackling men three times her size. Emma had to be more careful. She had to be smarter.

Rule number five: Honesty was key. If they were going to get through this, they had to be honest with one another. No more lies, no more secrets. If one of them asked the other a question, the truth was the only option. Both Emma and Regina had endured enough lies in their lives, especially in the last few months. Something like this required them to be 100 percent real with one another. No. More. Lying.

Rule number six, and the most important: Regina had to come out of seclusion. She was no longer allowed to stay trapped indoors. Enough time had passed and although she didn't want to admit it, Regina knew she had to make a change. Even she was getting tired of staying cooped up on her own. It wasn't helping anyone, especially not her. It was time for her to rejoin the world of the living. She had to become a person again. Mostly, she had to be Henry's mom again. No more hiding. No more avoiding her son. No more avoiding life. Regina had to get her shit together. And she had a feeling Emma would be there every step of the way, whether she wanted her to be or not. Because, as Emma would say, "What are friends for?"


End file.
